Broken Angels
by Avatar of Adarin
Summary: A mysterious vessel crash-lands in the northern-most area of Lordaeron. The aftermath of the incident will reverberate throughout the world of Azeroth for centuries to come.
1. Prelude

_Authors Notes: I'd like to start off by saying that this work, specifically, is not entirely my own creation. The idea spun off of a StarCraft/Warcraft crossover I read called Reigns of War by TheWatcher2785 on . I stumbled upon his work when I decided I wanted to read a fan-fiction delving into the Heroes of the Storm mythos. Finding no such stories, I decided - instead - to write my own. Having issues building a backstory revolving around the Nexus and why these characters were drawn there, I decided that I would base a portion of my work off of his tales to ease this transition on._

 _It is important to note that the earlier chapters will sound a lot like Reigns of War but I plan on rewriting all of it: not because I didn't like it (quite the opposite actually), but because I want to make it my own. Small grammatical errors aside, there were a few points in the story I would have done differently and, since it will end up in an entirely different direction, there will be a lot of additions along to way to build up to something more._

 _That being said, imitation is the best form of flattery, they say._

 _Though this story will start out on a very Protossy note, there will be dozens of Warcraft characters along the way, so bare with me._

 _Aaaaaaand now that all of that is out of the way, on with the show..._

* * *

 **BROKEN ANGELS**  
A Heroes of the Storm fanfiction

* * *

 **-ACT I-  
Collision**

 _Legends speak of a place where world's collide and mighty heroes battle for dominance..._

* * *

 **Chapter 1: Prelude**

UNEXPLORED REGION OF THE KOPRULU SECTOR  
11:54 - Shipboard Time

"Hold, my brothers! Our reinforcements should arrive shortly!" declared - what appeared to be - a man, clad in an ancient armor forged from some unknown yellowish metallic alloy. He swung his right arm forward and, as he did so, what sounded like some kind of electrical surge emanated from the armor surrounding his forearm.

Almost immediately, an energy took form from the back-side of his wrist. Its brilliant white-blue light lit up the battlefield that was unfolding on the planet around them. Despite it being almost mid-day according to their shipboard clocks, each world was different, and the sun had not yet risen on this unexplored world.

The light that emanated from the blade - and it truly did look like a sword - seemed to be feeding off of the rage within the warriors heart. As he closed the gap between him and his enemy, he swung his forearm out, cleaving his adversary in two. The beast fell apart as if it were nothing more than a banana being sliced.

As the pieces fell to the ground, the warrior turned around to look over the battlefield. There were plenty more targets to choose from. Hundreds - no, thousands - of the things skittered about the battlefield, overtaking everything in their wake - more similar to insects than the superior lifeforms that they were.

Another group of similarly-dressed warriors struggled against their own foes, though they didn't seem to be having as much luck. Seven of the creatures - the little ones at least - had bared down on three of the warriors.

"Stand strong Zealots! Just a little longer..." the first warrior, who appeared to be their leader, called out to them. Zealot's were low-ranking members of the Templar caste and, as such, were the backbone of the warrior's army. "We are Protoss!"

"We are the Firstborn!" shouted another of the Zealots, as he took the face of one of his attackers clean off.

"We will never allow ourselves to be surpassed by your kind..." he said, though his argument seemed rather difficult to believe as three more of the creatures rushed to take the dead one's place. He dodged the first, but the second one caught him in his right shoulder and, as it sank its teeth in, he fell on his back in agony. He did not get back up. Like the end of many a tale, this being had been felled by hands of his people's most hated foe.

The Zerg.

They were the evolutionary siblings of the Protoss, though the two races couldn't have looked more different. They were both the children of the Xel'naga, the Protoss being the first of the two species to have been created by the mysterious beings. At first, the Protoss had believed them to be extinct, but they had recently discovered that to be false. In truth, the Xel'naga had shaped both the Protoss and then the Zerg with the ultimate intent of the two species eventually coming back together to reform the ancient race.

Though recent actions suggested that the time of the Xel'naga's return was near, the Protoss had been awaiting their to return for eons. They could bear to wait a little longer.

The Protoss, themselves, looked human enough from a distance. They were usually about the same height as the tallest humans the species had to offer - seven feet - but from afar, it was difficult to accurately tell the difference.

Close up, however, they would never pass as human. Each Protoss had a bluish-violet hue in the pigment of their scaly skin, though the shade varied between individuals. Most notably, their eyes glowed with some form of energy. Each had a crest that stretched back from the crown of their head.

Their legs had two knee joints, the lower-most bending forwards rather than back. Their hands had four digits rather than five and they were positioned differently than human hands, each possessing two thumbs. Their shoulders were more broad than humans too, though their bodies were much more slender in their midsection.

The most important physical difference between Protoss and human physiology were several nerve cords that hung from their heads. Though they looked like hair, these nerves actually served as the organs that fueled the energy that surged within them. Furthermore, it had been because of those nerves that the species, as a whole, had been able to tap into the psychic energies that the Protoss were so well known for. The study of this psychic energy had since been referred to as Psionics.

The Protoss had been shaped by the Xel'naga eons ago on the planet known as Aiur and, under their guidance, their latent psionic powers developed. As the species progressed, their technology had been built around it. All forms of Protoss machinery, to some extent, bore some form of the psionic technology.

In their current state, the Protoss looked nearly the polar opposite of the species known as the Zerg. The creatures that the Zealots fought were known to be called Zerglings - one of the simplest, yet overwhelmingly deadly, breeds that the Zerg had evolved into over the ages. Unlike the Protoss, who - for the most part - came in only a few shapes and sizes, the countless Zerg breeds looked extremely different from one another.

The species as a whole looked like horribly disfigured variations of the worst fauna the Koprulu Sector had to offer - and for good reason. The Xel'naga had discovered the original zerg on the planet Zerus. They gifted the Zerg with the 'purity of essence,' making them the counterparts of the Protoss, whom they they had shaped with the 'purity of form'; the two species were intended to eventually merge to perpetuate the Xel'naga lifecycle.

The Xel'naga created the brain-like Overmind to control the Zerg swarm. The Overmind oversaw the swarm's rapid evolution, created the Cerebrates that served as the swarm's intermediary leaders, and divided them into broods. They had a very hive-like caste structure that was, at the time, led by the Queen of Blades.

The Zerg swarm, as a whole, were extremely vicious and tenacious creatures. Their natural armor and weaponry could be compared to modern technology in terms of physical durability, and they proved extremely resistant to chemical agents, though their biological nature was still vulnerable to certain kinds of concentrated radiation.

Most notably, the Zerg were known for their quick adaptability and their mastery over evolution. It was for this reason the various breeds were so physically different. They had simply evolved to fill different niches within the Swarm. Some looked like monstrous dogs, with spiked tails and hellish claws. Some looked like gargantuan snakes, albeit in the most abstract sense, with sickle-like appendages for arms. Even the buildings that offered them protection were a living, breathing part of the Swarm, though they looked more akin to vital organs than housing. The Zerg swarm would have been a very odd place to call home.

The hundreds of Zerglings, that circled in around the Zealots then, looked like a pack of ravenous dogs, primitively feral but obedient and loyal only to their master. The warriors knew that Zerglings, in particular, were among the least horrific forms these creatures took, but that didn't make them any less deadly as the three remaining warriors scanned the battlefield for the reinforcements they so eagerly awaited.

The endless tide of terror never faltered. For every Zergling the Zealots managed to slay, two or three more would quickly take its place. The warriors struggled to keep up with them despite their life-long training. When they had first arrived at the outpost, their numbers were much more substantial, but the unending wave of the Swarm wouldn't let up and only three Zealot's were left standing.

The Protoss came to this unexplored world on a whim, hearing rumors of an ancient Xel'naga weapon that could have offered some valuable leverage during the war, but the last few hours had pushed all thoughts of their original mission to the back of their mind. They came to this planet backed with the full might of the High Templar, counting the Zealot Order, that was composed of their lowest-ranking members, among them. They brought with them dozens of Stalkers and Immortals, both of which were upgraded models of the older war machines that had been designed as a way to allow Templar to continue fighting, even after their bodies could not.

Earlier in the fight, even the mighty Colossi rained down upon the battlefield from their Carrier-class ships that had been positioned somewhere in high orbit. It seemed as if the highly advanced Protoss had brought to this world a battalion of every warrior-class that the psionic race had to offer. Despite their rank, each warrior did their part in cleansing this world of the Zerg with the vigor and skill that were hallmarks of the psionic people.

"How much longer do you think he'll be, Tethis? I am unsure how much more of this my body can take..." one of the three survivors inquired. As he looked to his superior for answers, the momentary distraction was all one Zergling needed to slide its barbed tail through the Zealot's thigh. He couldn't spin out of the way in time. His fatigue, simply, wouldn't allow it.

Tethis understood where he was coming from. His own muscles had begun giving out minutes ago, yet somehow he still managed to push through the exhaustion.

Though coming here had been somewhat of a last-minute decision, the Zealots were initially sent to this planet to investigate an unusual distortion emanating on the worlds surface. It was dubbed a 'seed world' due to the abundant amount of exploitable materials littered about its surface. Once they had landed, however, it had become all too clear that the Zerg had already discovered this planet and had long since begun to colonize it. Having harvested quite a bit of the worlds resources, Tethis wondered if Kerrigan and her Swarm hadn't already discovered the Xel'naga artifact.

The Zerglings quickly jumped on top of the injured Zealot, and Tethis ran for his friend and compatriot. His fury came to a fever pitch and, as he thought of the situation at hand, both of his psionic blades burst forth from the forearm units of his power-suit.

Tethis impaled the first of the creatures through its torso, but there were already three more atop his underling. He jumped back a few feet and slashed the blade of his right arm in a wide semicircle. As he did so the Zerglings fell apart. Two of them did, anyway.

He helped his friend up, or tried to, as the other Zealot defended them. They wouldn't be able to hold the Warp Gate much longer.

With information gleaned from the Protoss' Observers, they had learned that the hive cluster that had colonized this world was not of Kerrigan's Swarm at all. Rather, a Cerebrate that had somehow survived the great purge of their kind by the Queen of Blades, had gained control of the invading brood. A massive Protoss fleet was dispatched to the world in the hopes of garnering the resources before this brood cluster could acquire them. The Dark Templar had been the only forces of the fleet who had not yet showed their faces in the battle.

The High Templar had accomplished the task of defeating the worm-like brain known as the Cerebrate with precision. Their success had proven to be short lived, however. Without the guiding influence of their Cerebrate, the remaining Zerg population had begun to run rampant on the planets surface. They had begun attacking the other hive colonies, as well as what Protoss remained, with an underlying nihilistic savagery that the Queen of Blades would normally curb.

Even now, apparently victorious, Tethis found it hard to take this victory in stride; and as the battle of attrition waged on, he was beginning to believe that reinforcements would never make it in time.

That was when he noticed a shimmering light in the distance. It soared through the sky as fast as it could, passing over a large Protoss structure in the distance. The building was massive, and its pyramid-shape was magnificent, but it was of no importance to Tethis at the time. The flickering object in the distance drew his attention.

Closer inspection revealed the rotating hull of a ship that looked like some form of octopus, but this was no Zerg. The reflection of the sun's light off of the vessel, as it finally peeked over the horizon, told him that it was built with some kind of metal at least.

As it approached the area where Tethis and the few remaining Zealots were held up, the ship seemed to open up. It sprouted something akin to wings, though the ship itself still looked more like some sort of ocean creature. It hovered in mid-air and its glowing wings gave off some kind of violet hue.

Tethis knew the vessel to be called a Warp Prism. It was perfect for transporting units and could be used in conjunction with a Warp Gate to transport an entire army in moments if one knew how to properly control the ship.

Almost as if on cue, a white light washed over the battlefield, and Tethis could no longer see the injured Zealots or the fierce Zerg. He was only blinded for a moment, however, but when he could see he again, he had been surrounded by hundreds of Dark Templar. They had been saved.

One among them stood out. His upper body was covered in armor crafted out of an unknown gray alloy. His pauldrons gave off a green glow as the man approached their tired bodies, one of which bled profusely from his thigh.

Even more astounding than the man who approached him then was the gargantuan vessel that hovered above the battlefield. One of just three of its kind, the arkship floated there like an angel of Terran lore that promised vengeance; both divine and absolute.

"This is Hierarch Artanis, commanding the Spear of Adun!" a voice called out to everyone on the planet below. Every Protoss knew him and the vessel as the flagship in the war against the Dark Voice, Amon. "Activating mass recall now."

The Protoss could communicate psionically through long distances. Tethis knew that the voice he heard was not the Protoss that approached him, but he embraced the Templar all the same.

Seconds later, an even larger vessel blocked out the sun's light as it hovered over the battlefield. The ship was surrounded by hundreds of smaller Scout-class ships, and even smaller machines that flew alongside them. Tethis had witnessed the power of the Spear of Adun before, as his people sought to reclaim Aiur.

The arkship looked like a golden icicle floating in the heavens then. More white lights began to manifest all around the Dark Templar and the few Zealots that survived. Reaching beyond time and space, more Protoss forces appeared from the magnificent white lights. More Stalkers and Immortals, at least a dozen of each, which would certainly even the odds a bit, but Tethis still felt that even all of that wouldn't be enough. Not after what he'd learned from what was most likely the last Zerg Cerebrate left alive.

"Inbound aerial units sir!" said one of the technicians onboard the Spear of Adun.

Aboard the arkship, Artanis quickly pulled up the readings his subordinate had just mentioned. He didn't need to.

Another holo-display had already been brought on screen that showed the outside of the ship, but he could barely see a thing. Thousands of enormous flying creatures blotted out the sun, but it was just enough to make some of them out: Mutalisks, Corruptors, Brood Lords and who knew what else.

Artanis was at a loss for words, save three.

"By the Gods..."

Even with their recent reinforcements and the Spear of Adun's anti-matter cannons, the Protoss were left with no choice but to retreat. The savage Zerg colony was just too much.

Meanwhile, back on the ground, the wounded had been transported aboard the arkship with the assistance of the Warp Prism. The remaining Protoss fought as hard as they could, but the multitude of terrors were unending. Now that the flying ones had joined the hive, they were forced back into their base.

The Dark Templar that wore the intricate gray armor focused on defending the Stalkers and the Immortals, but even he, as brilliant of a warrior as he appeared to be, couldn't keep up with the endless waves. Tethis had heard the others call him Zeratul.

"We must abandon this world now," Artanis called out. "It pains me to call off our search for the Xel'naga artifact, but there is no benefit from senseless bloodshed."

Tethis was inclined to agree. He had seen little else but slaughter on this world when all of his people only wanted peace and the restoration of Aiur. In the mean time the Hierarch had been using the Xel'naga's arkship as their main base of operations.

"Mass recall incoming..." Artanis told his followers on the unexplored world below.

As they were forced back into their base, the Protoss prepared for the mass recall that had been ordered. However, having use of only one Warp Gate, not all of them could warp at once. The Warp Prism had to return several times to transport most of the Protoss aboard the Spear of Adun.

"You should only need to hold out for just a moment longer!" Artanis announced aboard the vessel.

"We cannot allow them to pass beyond this point!" barked Zeratul as he rallied what remained of the groundside forces to hold back the siege. He ordered some of the robotic probes that worked on repairing the base to construct several photon cannons to fortify their position in the mean time.

Though the Zerg's loss of guidance, since they had killed the last Cerebrate, was evident in how they lashed out at random, a great many of them somehow managed to focus their attention on the still-active Warp Gate being powered by a nearby pylon.

The Protoss had no nose to speak of, but that did not mean that they lacked a sense of smell. At that moment, the pores in Tethis' skin nearly made him sick as he sensed the the brewing disaster. He could feel the energy leaking off of the Warp Gate then, and it overwhelmed his senses.

"We must shut down that Warp Gate!" Zeratul explained, seeing Tethis' distaste. "The Mutalisks' venom is reacting with the Gate and causing it to malfunction. If it were to explode with the artifact in such close proximity, there is no telling what catastrophe may come upon us!"

"I'm on it," Tethis volunteered, commanding several Protoss probes to commence repairs of the Warp Gate. After they had been assigned their tasks, Tethis had attempted to input the shutdown sequence.

But the Gate's internal systems were far too damaged to follow its proper protocols. In their attempt to shut it down, the warp-field matrix began to destabilize around it.

Zeratul ordered his Dark Templar and the pilots of the warmachines to stall the Zerg assault on the gate while the probes worked on fixing the warp-field within the gate. Tethis worked on shutting down the pylon that powered it - but it was too little, too late as the Terran saying went. The warp-field began to grow and expand into an amorphous bubble of pure energy, catching many of the Protoss forces within its reach.

Having witnessed it all, Artanis could only stand from his control console as he watched the wave of energy descend upon him and his ship.

"En taro Tassadar..." were his final words, before both him and the Spear of Adun were swallowed up by the mysterious energy field.

* * *

Location: UNKNOWN  
XX:XX - Shipboard Time UNKNOWN  
Data download: ERROR  
System recalibrating...

Dazed, Artanis was astounded to find his arkship in relatively decent condition. Whatever had just occurred on the planet's surface had instaneously gobbled them up and just as quickly spit them back out again.

"Are we..." Zeratul began to say, though the words escaped him for a moment. "Adun be with us."

His contemplation would have to wait though.

The Hierarch looked down at the computer console, it's instruments beeping to warn its inhabitants that something was causing massive damage to the arkships shields. Looking over the monitors, the psionic leader was confused by the sight that greeted him.

His people had all been safely transported aboard the Spear of Adun, but their problems didn't end there. The ships propulsion systems were acting up and Artanis quickly realized that he wouldn't have the time to repair the systems before his arkship fell out of the sky.

Long wisps of some blue energy shot up from the planet's surface at them. As airy as it seemed, the attack caused their shields considerable damage and, as they passed over the world's landscape, it didn't take long for Artanis to realize that they were no longer on the same planet that they had just been fighting the Zerg on.

His instruments couldn't tell him exactly where he was. They had been too badly damaged by whatever it was that the exploding Warp Gates had done to his ship. The Hierarch was certain, however, that they were no longer in the same part of the galaxy. Artanis had traversed the vastness of space many times at his age, and he was totally unfamiliar the correlation of the stars in the night sky.

"Power failing. Warning: Gravitational forces in planet's atmosphere..."

Artanis never heard the rest of the computer's ramblings. He didn't need to. He could see the ground flying towards him at increasing speeds. A large mountain rose over the horizon in the distance, that, without complete control of the ships computers they could never hope to avoid in time.

The Spear of Adun sent a wave of fire in its wake as it forced itself into the mountainside, but the world that Artanis had crash-landed into that day would prove to be unlike anything he had ever encountered before.


	2. Into the Unknown

**Chapter 2: Into the Unknown**

Location: UNKNOWN  
XX:XX - Shipboard Time UNKNOWN  
Data download: ERROR  
System recalibrating...

"What manner of beasts are these?" wondered Zeratul as he separated the head of one of the creatures that thought it smart to strike at one such as a Dark Templar. He had traveled far across many star systems and had borne witness to a myriad of different species along the way, yet he could not recall ever seeing life take the form of what had bared down on them just then.

Looking over the battlefield, it became quickly apparent to Zeratul that they had simply exchanged one battle for another. He was relieved to see his Nerazim brethren - the other Dark Templar - holding the line against the creatures, alongside the few remaining Zealots. Zeratul still felt odd about working with the Khalai, or High Templar. Their ways of looking at the world were too polar opposite, though the one known as Tethis had left his mark on the war-hardened veteran.

Hundreds of creatures came upon them in the mountainside. They looked almost human, though he couldn't help but notice the great deal of decay that the beings had gone through. Some of them were missing their jaws and other appendages entirely.

The air around them was thick and wafted the aroma of death along with it. The ground beneath them looked to be void of all nutrients and nothing grew through it, save the occasional mushroom. It looked all too similar to what the Zerg referred to as creep, though it appeared to act differently enough to not worry the Protoss.

"These beings resemble Terrans... But they appear to be... Rotting," Zeratul reported to the Hierarch from the area just outside of the crashed ship. "Though from the look of it, how can we be certain that we are even in the Koprulu Sector?"

"Truthfully, we do not know where we are yet. But these creatures; the way they do battle is similar to the Zerg," Artanis noted, communicating telepathically from aboard the Spear of Adun. He was busy overseeing its repairs, trusting Zeratul to guard the ship while they went on. "I have been looking into the chemical makeup of the thick creep-like substance all around you."

"What have you learned?" Zeratul's thick black ponytail waved behind him as the wind began to pick up but it didn't hinder his movements in the least bit. The thick lock of hair smacked off of the back of his gray armor as jumped towards another enemy.

"Nothing of note yet. I will make you aware no sooner than I understand it myself," the Hierarch explained.

He swung his right arm, and the psionic blade that sprouted forth from it, in a Z-shaped motion, cutting down three of the enemies that mindlessly lurched at the Prelate with the same effort an adult would expend in striking a child.

The three creatures wailed and as the energy blade tore through their flesh, it seared them into pieces as the blade quickly retracted. Unlike the power suits that the Zealots wore, the Narezim wore nearly no armor whatsoever and only possessed one psi blade, though the more skilled of the Dark Templar could invoke their wrath with less than that.

Zeratul's armor, however, looked nothing like that of his own warriors. The green glow that his shoulder pads gave off helped to identify their leader during the heat of battle.

"They may fight similarly, but their bodies are far weaker by comparison," Zeratul informed his Hierarch. Another of the creatures made a lunge for Zeratul and, as he was engaging another of them, didn't see it coming for his rear flank.

Tethis arrived not a moment too soon. His psi blades remained sheathed within the wrists of his power suit. He was far too close to Zeratul and, in attempting to cover him, did not want to risk harming him as he did so.

He landed a solid punch in the creatures head and it momentarily distracted it. In that quick second, though, Tethis had wrapped his arms around the things neck and snapped it.

That was not all that happened in that brief moment, however. Three more of the rotting creatures lunged at him then. He turned quickly and jumped over the first. With quickness, Zeratul extracted his warp blades mid jump, landed on the second creature, and immediately rolled into the third. He turned to meet the only one that stood near him now, slashing one his blades through the things chest.

They died pretty easily, the Zealot thought to himself. He had no idea that the creatures were already dead. None of them did.

Even though they had dropped into space, orbiting some unknown world - though they had initially been dazed from the unexpected space-jump and subsequent crash - the rest of the Protoss mirrored him in regards to how easily they could combat their attackers. Their warp blades and psi blades could cut through the creatures rotting flesh as easily as the the Terran lactate-based product known as 'butter.'

Despite this, numerous creatures attacked the Spear of Adun but their attacks proved ineffectual against their plasma shielding. The claws that these creatures possessed lacked the Xel'naga helix that had allowed the Zerg to deal massive damage to their shields. These rotting corpses would have to go at it for days to disable them in their current state.

A lot of the arkship's primary functions had been damaged in the crash, but a few of the systems secondary functions were still active. The psionic shield had sustained considerable damage in the fall, but it had enough power to operate at fifty percent for some time.

The metal swords and other more primitive weapons that some of the more Terran-looking creatures wielded were crafted of an inferior alloy, though Zeratul couldn't help to appreciate the scene. The weapons harkened back to a time that had long since passed for the Protoss. A few of their own relics even survive to this day but even then, he believed that even they would shatter after repeated attacks at the shields of Artanis' ship.

"Hierarch, although it would seem that we have the upper hand at the moment, I worry that the opposing force is too numerous for us to fully ward off in our present state."

Zeratul had learned a long time ago to never underestimate a situation. Some of the creatures seemed sentient, the more human looking ones at least. Looking around, it was rather obvious - to him anyway - that they had crashed near an outpost of these people, though it took a stretch of the imagination to call them that. He knew that it was either that, or there was something that Zeratul had overlooked.

Maybe these people didn't always look this way. Maybe there was something here making them this way. Perhaps a disease or something similar, changing them like...

The Zerg.

That was it. The revelation occurred to Zeratul he could not believe he didn't realize it any sooner than he did. The creep, or whatever it was that looked like it, that sank into the landscape had to be connected to the creatures somehow.

And an even worse thought stirred through the Prelates mind then.

What if they had been infected with the same thing that changed these creatures?

Of course, under normal protocol the Protoss had a policy set in place prohibiting interaction with a species whose technological progress was vastly inferior. Those rules had been set in place for many ethical reasons but also because situations of outright aggression were known to have occurred in instances just like what had unfolded then.

Of course, it was detestable to kill these 'defenseless' creatures but, considering the situation, they had no choice but to fight back.

"If these creatures somehow manage to break through our shields and make it aboard the arkship, there is no leaving this world, Zeratul," warned Artanis.

Zeratul wondered how they would even find home once they got off the planet anyway. With no star map to guide them, unless it could be repaired, the odds were stacked against them but he pushed his thoughts to the back of his mind.

He had a base to protect.

* * *

Location: SPEAR OF ADUN  
XX:XX - Shipboard Time UNKNOWN  
Data download: ERROR  
System recalibrating...

" _Zerashk Guilida!_ " yelled Artanis as he punched the consoles before him in frustration. The Khalani phrase meant 'oblivion awaits.'

"The crash took out all of the primary systems, just as I had anticipated, but the secondary systems - which include the star guidance system - were damaged long before the crash."

"It's almost like that unstable warp field we encountered overloaded all of our navigation controls," he continued.

Indeed it had. Not even the engines that would normally keep the arkship afloat were functioning correctly when they first entered the atmosphere of this new world.

He then focused his attention elsewhere, on several smaller screens that had popped into thin air just then.

"All of our mechanical units are either inoperable or unable to respond," Artanis said telepathically to everyone aboard the ship. "I have already uncovered a few Probes that I have set out to repair our home. If you find any mechanical units that appear salvageable, please bring them to the robotics facility. We will need them desperately, if we are to survive on this world. En Taro Adun, my brothers."

"Hierarch!" called one of the technicians on board, the zealot that had had his leg injured on that last world, which was equally mysterious in its own right.

"Sensors indicate a strange buildup of unknown energy in some of the foreign structures just north of here as well as a large number of natives heading to our location."

"Most of our systems will remain offline for some time while we try to repair the damages," reported another technician. "We've barely managed to keep our shields up thus far. Damage reports have finally come in and it doesn't look good either."

"Our air force will need the most repairs in addition to needing to have their on-board computers rebooted. As far as our Immortals and Stalkers are concerned, they will need only the simplest of repairs. In order to get our Colossi up and running, however, we will need to reestablish a link to our main server if we ever desire to get them fully functional again," he explained.

Artanis was silent for a moment. He then looked back to his own computer screen and began to type something into the system. It took him a few moments but eventually whatever it was he had typed up was ready.

"I have written a new subroutine into the Spear of Adun's computers. I am re-modulating the power field-matrix of the arkship's shields to reroute energy to the Spears anti-matter cannons. That should help us to defend the ship so Zeratul can scout the area, for a while at least.

"Meanwhile my brothers, get to work on establishing a connection with the Colossi. Our Stalkers and Immortals will be functioning soon! We must move quickly or we will never get off of this rock," the Heirarch informed them.

" _Anht zagatir nas_ ," he finished. The native tongue was interpreted as 'may the gods watch over you.'

Zeratul led the Dark Templar and the few Zealots that had remained among their ranks. They had managed to fend off the horde of decomposing things that had assaulted them so far.

The fact that they were superior to these beings in both strength and speed having long since become apparent when, out of nowhere, the ground beneath them began to shake violently. Zeratul had experienced many seismic shifts on many worlds, but he knew this was no earthquake. Something very large was undoubtedly heading right towards them.

When they were finally able to make out what exactly it was that was coming for them, nothing could prepare them for what they would see. Mutilated human bodies and the limbs from several unknown creatures combined into a single, twisted hideous form. Though, unfortunately for the Protoss, there wasn't just one single creature but rather an entire cadre of them.

A viscous trail of blood was left behind after each laborious step, and the pungent aroma of death wafted through the air as they approached. The stench that came off of the things was only the beginning. They looked to be incredibly powerful - despite being sewn together - and if their size was any indication it seemed to Zeratul that one could fit ten fully-grown Terrans inside of the thing and still have room.

The creatures looked like mounds of corpses that had been cobbled together to form something more sinister than whatever it had been pieced together from. Each of the decaying constructs - and there was more than a dozen of them - were surrounded by some sort of greenish brown haze, and thousands of small insects buzzed around them, feasting.

Their innards spilled from a jagged gap in their stomach that looked more like another mouth it could use to gobble up its enemies. Three disproportionate, arm-like limbs were sewn onto their bloated bodies: two holding bloody cleavers, and the other - which was sewn to the creatures backs - held a thick chain with a hook on the end. Their tongues were thick and round, Zeratul could see by then, and it didn't make them look all that intelligent either, as it dangled between their crooked, yellow teeth.

"What manner of abomination is this?" Zeratul asked no one but himself, as at least a dozen of the giant monstrosities made their way over the horizon. The Prelate of the Dark Templar couldn't imagine why anyone would ever create such a thing. It pained him to think of disgracing the dead in such a way.

As sluggish as the creatures were, they most certainly made up for it in physical strength and, as one of them charged straight for Zeratul, the creature swatted at anything in it's way, sending two Dark Templar flying as if they were mere play things.

As it got within a few yards of him, the thing cried out as it raised it's balled fists to the heavens. It's voice gargled as the scream echoed about the landscape.

The deciduous trees in the area had browned, not like they would on most worlds in autumn, but as if the entire forest had been nearing the end of its lifetime all at once. The thick foliage hindered Zeratul's footsteps in the slightest, but he had most certainly fought through worse conditions during his training on Shakuras.

Ages ago, the Narezim had been exiled from Aiur and eventually settled on the barren desert planet. Despite its lack of any real vegetation, Shakuras had a savage eco-system that more than provided enough sustenance for the exiles.

The planet had two moons - one of which orbited so near to the main-world that it was actually on the fringe of Shakuras' atmosphere. The species that had evolved on the moon were the polar opposite of the ones on the world below. The moons may have prevented the suns rays from reaching the planets surface but, as a result, the nearest moon was a savage jungle where even the plants had teeth. Where Shakuras was dry and dark and cool, it's moon was humid and full of exotic plantlife that had literally overtaken the place.

Zeratul had spent a great deal of time on both the moon and the world he had called home. Shakuras was littered with many skeletons of the living things that had died as a result of the two contrasting worlds sharing the same atmosphere. Often enough, the wildlife of one world would somehow spill over into the other and calamity would ensue.

But in all of Zeratul's long life, he had never witnessed anything so vulgar - not even the Zerg - as the massive hunks of sewn-together flesh that barreled down on him and his fellow Narezim that day.

One of the creatures had made it past his other warriors, it's arms raised as it prepared for a crushing blow. Looking up at his attacker, Zeratul's face remained as stoic as ever. Moments before the monster's swing struck its intended target, however, the Prelate blinked out of existence.

Seconds later, he reappeared atop the creatures back as its balled fists slammed into the ground where Zeratul had just been standing.

As he held on to one of the loose pieces of skin around the things shoulder, the Prelate pulled his right arm back briefly. As the energy within his forearm unit hummed to life, he proceeded to shove his warp blade into the back of the abominations head. Zeratul couldn't be certain that the thing even had a brain but the heat from the weapon liquefied the partially rotted flesh on contact, instantly melting whatever was inside.

Zeratul rode its lifeless husk to the ground, and the thud it produced was so loud and shook the ground so noticeably, that the other Narezim had to admire the sight briefly. From atop the creatures carcass, he surveyed the battlefield. They had begun to imitate their Prelate's maneuver as they realized that they could never compete with the creatures strength. They were learning how to deal with this new threat as they fought them.

He had taught them well.

Elsewhere, another of the gargantuan creatures came barreling towards another Narezim though he was accompanied by the two remaining Zealots among them. Using their cybernetic implants, Tethis and the other warrior launched off of the ground. The anti-matter engines that had been surgically grafted to their backs kept them aloft as they darted around the monstrous thing. Irritated, it swatted at them like bugs unable to comprehend that they were merely distracting it.

The Narezim blinked out of existence, and teleported to the area directly in front of the creatures face but by the time he reappeared, he had already prepared a foot to be smashed into the abominations face. As his hit connected, the Zealots stopped flying around aimlessly and crashed into both of the monsters shoulders. Between the three of them, they easily managed to topple the thing. No sooner than it hit the ground, the Zealots killed their thrusters and began slicing it to pieces for good measure.

It wasn't until after that scuffle had ended that Zeratul realized his Narezim brother hadn't used his warp blade because the forearm portion of his power suit had been badly damaged. Nevertheless, the Prelate was satisfied with the results but he had to trust in his warriors abilities. He had his own challenges to worry about.

In another part of the battlefield, these abominations cumbersome nature was quickly becoming more obvious to the Protoss. They had begun to take advantage of that fact, much like any warrior worth his weight would do.

The group who had taken down the second abomination went their separate ways. Tethis, specifically, made his way towards one of his Templar comrades that didn't appear to be fairing as well as them.

He had seen the creature coming to attack a pair of Narezim. Tethis dashed towards them - his cybernetic implants pushing him faster than usual - but by the time he had arrived one of the Protoss were pinned up against the mountainside. The other blinked around its rotting opponent, which bore a large axe in the hand that wasn't holding his ally aloft.  
The rotting giant turned to face Tethis, noting that he didn't move with the same speed as the Dark Templar did. The creature lifted the Narezim he had been holding by the throat and flung him towards Tethis. The threw him with such force that he would likely die from impact but thankfully Tethis had a trick up his sleeve.

He reached into the inner-most thoughts within his mind and from there called forth a shield of psionic energy. Tethis wasn't even sure if he could do what he had hoped to but he had to at least try. He instructed the shield to bend as the Templar impacted it and it did it exactly that, softening his blow.

The dazed Templar slowly returned to his feet and, as Tethis snapped back to reality, the other Narezim that had been blinking about went in for the kill. His warp blade seared the foul smelling things axe-wielding arm clean off, but it didn't even seem to cause it any pain.

It only served to slow the creature down. Before he could even recover, however, the Narezim that Tethis saved had already received his revenge as he slipped his warp blade into its skull, finally quelling the beast.

Despite these minor victories, however, Zeratul quickly realized that they would soon be quickly overrun as hordes of the smaller rotting corpses flooded in from the north, though some among them seemed different from the others somehow. In addition, it took a considerable bit more effort to deal with the enormous abominations in relation to the smaller creatures

To make matters worse, the structures built up around the enemy fortifications in the north had begun to attack the anti-matter shields on the Spear of Adun with some form on unknown energy. As the energy wisped it's way through the air, it seemed to be guided towards the arkship, and Zeratul noted that it almost looked like some form of spirit.

Whatever fueled this power, Zeratul was certain it was coming from somewhere in the outpost to the north but him and his Templar couldn't afford to pull away from the battle for too long without a serious risk of compromising their shields.

The attack proved more effective than any of the Protoss could have believed possible and the sheer damage this strange new energy did their shields couldn't be avoided for much longer. He quickly realized that this new threat would have to be dealt with sooner, rather than later. He knew the Spear couldn't take take much more under the constant pressure.

"Their numbers are too great," Zeratul said telepathically to his warriors, as well as his other followers that worked on repairing the arkship. The horde of the damned had finally come upon them and the Protoss' attention was quickly being drawn in too many directions at once.

Some of the smaller creatures had made their way to the shields and had begun mindlessly clubbing at the only thing preventing these creatures from outright damaging the actual hull of the ship. Some used weapons, others used their bare fists, and others still mindlessly clawed at the energy field, hoping to find a way to break through. Zeratul then noticed that three of the giant abominations, as well, had broken through their ranks and the mysterious spirit energy that was being fired on them began to concentrate on one specific area. Zeratul could feel this battle coming to a close and not in his favor.

Almost as if in answer, the shields began to weaken at the particular points that had taken the most damage. Within seconds, the entire shield shattered like a pane of window glass.

"Pull together, brothers. I'm nearly finished," Artanis replied, hoping to inspire confidence in his people.

A loud, mechanical whirring noise echoed throughout the mountains as the arkship's automated defense systems were rerouted just in the nick of time. They immediately began firing their anti-matter rounds and, between them and the Dark Templar, they were able to deal with the smaller minions even more swiftly than before.

Some of the cannons focused on the large abominations, and Zeratul ran for the thing as the cannons began firing on one in particular. It didn't even see Zeratul as he ran right under the creature and his warp blade tore through it's groin. The creature gargled out a scream as its green intestines fell from it's insides. Two random shots from the cannons finished the thing: the first hitting its kneecap, the second smashing into its face as it fell. It ceased to move.

"Nerazim," he heard Artanis calling out to them. "We have finished repairs of our Immortals and the Stalkers are nearly finished as well. I'm sending them to you now."

As another horde of creatures came upon them, Zeratul and his warriors readied themselves. The Spear's defense cannons unloaded on the decaying mob as the Dark Templar blinked around the battlefield, easily dealing with the lesser minions.

The Protoss had finally begun to gain the upper hand as the first wave of Immortals rolled out of the docking back of the Spear of Adun. The four-legged machines motors hissed with every leg movement. The cannon sitting atop its legs scanned the battlefield, seeming to focus on the larger abominations. When put up against an enemy that they were familiar with, the Immortals could withstand the fire of a Terran siege tank or the blades of an ultralisk, ground targets being the units specialty.

Each Immortal was outfitted with a large cannon turret that was able to pivot a full three-hundred-and-sixty degrees. Each turret had two twin phase disrupters that were positioned to look like two outstretched arms. They worked extremely well when faced with tough enemies. The machines were constructed with some golden-looking metal alloy that shimmered as they moved.

They offered the Narezim some much needed support at the time, though mostly because the warriors had exhausted most of their energy between the separate fights across two worlds. The Immortals unleashed their phase disrupters upon the massive creatures and they quickly folded under the fire pressure. The initial attack easily punched holes in dozens of the creatures, no matter their size. The Immortals weaponry was more specialized to deal with ground soldiers than the Spear's automated defense systems, as the ships programming assumed it would be used in combat while the arkship was in orbit.

"Let us allow our cannons to sing once more, brothers," cried out one of the Protoss piloting an Immortal. His phase disrupters easily tore through the wall of decaying biomass, as they charged at the opening in the Spear of Adun that the Immortals had been emerging from.

On that order, Tethis - being the only Zealot to have made it through the whole ordeal relatively unscathed - and his fellow Dark Templar that had fought at his side reassembled around the metallic constructs providing them with as much protection as their muscles would allow them.

"When does their attack slow?" Tethis asked psionically, to no one in particular, though he had apparently warranted an answer from Zeratul himself.

"These creatures are very similar to the Zerg, indeed," was all he had said. It seemed to Tethis, and apparently to Zeratul as well, that these decaying monstrosities numbers were just as unending as their more familiar foe.

* * *

Location: UNKNOWN  
XX:XX - Shipboard Time UNKNOWN  
X4:00 Hours After Impact  
Data download: ERROR  
System recalibrating...

If anyone had doubted it before, Artanis felt that the battlefield had most certainly swayed to favor his people. He was worried that it would take him too long to rewrite the Spear's system protocols but he finished his work not a moment too soon.

Though the creatures assault hasn't slowed in the least bit, the Templar were learning the best way to counter their strange opponents. Now that the Immortals, as well as the arkship's automated defenses, were back online, Zeratul could leave the vessel for a bit and trust that it would be properly guarded.

The Immortals brought swift ends to the decaying creatures that assaulted the fallen arkship. There was only one real threat in the area that hadn't been dealt with yet: the strange buildings to the north that obliterated the ships shields. They had ceased their attack for now, likely recharging - or something akin to that - to prepare another attack and Zeratul knew they had to hurry and take them out before that could happen.

Most of the already-dying trees that dotted the landscape let off a thick smoke that hung in the air. The smoke wafted about as a faint breeze blew by, carrying over the battlefield.

Almost immediately, every warrior under Zeratul's command used their innate psionic power to bend the light around them, making them invisible to the naked eye. The decrepit creatures that still attempted to attack the arkship were dealt with by the Spear of Adun's automated defense system as well as the Immortals that now patrolled the crash sites proximity.

The forty or so Dark Templar that remained made their way towards the buildings. With the help of their stealth they closed the distance with no opposition, leaving the Spear of Adun well guarded. Within minutes, they could make out the buildings in the distance.

To Zeratul's surprise they looked similar to ancient Protoss structures to an extent. The majority of the buildings had a pyrimid shape to them though they had no actual tip to it. Instead, the cealing opened up and a large green crystal floated where the tip of the pyrimid-like building would normally be. Additionally, the crystal appeared to be surrounded by four bone-like mandibles that attached the the sides of the building that looked like claws.

Those were the ones. Zeratul was certain of it. He could feel the mysterious energy coming off of them. They're were a dozen of them, easily, and other buildings among them. As they got closer to the cluster of buildings that looked more like ruins, they spread out. If one could figure out how to dismantle them, then they could communicate it telepathically to the others and quickly come to aid whenever necessary.

They fought through the hordes of decaying Terran-like creatures, noting that every once in a while one would seem a bit different from the others, almost as if they were more aware of their surroundings. Having no time to ask questions, the Templar cut their way through them as quickly as they could.

As Zeratul ran inside the first building, he was surprised at its simplicity. He had expected something far more advanced than the puddle of green, primordial ooze that he found. There were no controls to speak of. There was nothing more to the building than a circular room with a path of stone at its center, where it was surrounded by the green goo. Whatever it was, it made the air thicker.

When he saw no logical way to cut off the power inside of the building, he called out to his Templar. After he hadn't heard anything good from them either, he hoped to try and destroy the buildings entirely.

"This is Zeratul, requesting the assistance of a few Immortals," he reached out, looking for help, though he knew that he wouldn't get much. Most of the Immortals were likely busy protecting the arkship by then.

" _En Taro Tassadar_ ," someone called back. "Three units incoming."

After a few moments the first building had been taken down with the help of the Immortal's phase disrupters. Zeratul learned that when the green crystal above some of the buildings was destroyed, they stopped spewing out that blue energy, though he almost learned the hard way. He narrowly avoided being hit by one of the blue wisps as it seemed to change its focus back and forth between him and the Immortal. Though it no longer mattered, within the hour they had overtaken the creatures outpost or whatever it was.

Ultimately, the decaying horde of creatures were no longer much of the threat with at least some of the computer systems back online. After a while longer, anything that remained of the enemy forces retreated. With the structures destroyed, the land itself began to breathe for the first time in probably years as the creep-like substance that covered the ground seemed to dissolve away over time. Even the trees themselves looked as if it had regained a little bit of color.

The fighting had finally ended.

Zeratul ordered everyone to return to the Spear of Adun. They had to establish a legitimate foothold if they would ever hope to survive on this savage world long enough to get off of it.

He needed to speak with Artanis. He could have done it psionically from a distance, sure, but he'd rather have done it face to face. There was much they needed to discuss.

Not too far away, hidden behind the burning foliage that littered the landscape, a mysterious figure had watched the entire battle from the shadows. She wore a tattered, crimson cloak that covered all but her face. Her skin had a soft blue hue to it and her eyes gave off an ominous orange glow. Her eyebrows were unnaturally long, sticking out a few inches farther than her face should've allowed, but that didn't mean they were unkempt in the least.

Her figure was slender enough that she could dance between the trees to remain unseen. She had an uncanny talent for melding with the shadows, which she displayed as she ran around the smoldering forest. She had to learn something of these newcomers.

She had seen the burning ball of light in the sky that had crashed not too far north of where she had built her empire, though she couldn't have expected to find what she did that day. She had initially thought it to be a meteor or something similar but, as that days events had played out, it quickly became apparent to her that whatever was going on here was well beyond her scope of understanding.

The creatures looked much like the Draenei at first glace, though their technology appeared to be even more advanced than their own. They also displayed a fervor during battle that had matched the Scourge forces toe for toe. She had never before seen anyone learn to deal with them as quickly as the mysterious travelers had, and she couldn't help but ask herself how they had done so.

It unnerved her to witness a race of people so far advanced from anything she had witnessed in her long and strange life, fighting so gracefully right outside her doorstep - even if it was the Scourge that they had attacked, and not her own Forsaken.

The graceful and mysterious woman danced through the trees a bit more, and eventually found one that seemed to be to her liking. She climbed up it and out onto its limb, knocking an arrow into her bow, as she scanned the horizon.

She was once the Ranger-General of Silvermoon, the awe-inspiring homeland of the High Elves. Though the times had changed, so too had Sylvanas Whisperwind.

Nearly a decade ago, she had been captured by the death knight known as Arthas Menethil. His damned soul, under the control of the malevolent Lich King, raised her corpse from the grave in order to endlessly torment her. He desecrated her spirit, corrupted her body and her soul, and brought her back from death as a whirlwind of her own torment and hatred. Thus, she became the first of the High Elven banshees.

The Lich King had made her what she was, but after an unusual circumstance, she had managed regain her free-will and rebel against Arthas and his endless army of undead Scourge. Over time, other Scourge had been freed from the Lich King's control and eventually found their way to Sylvanas' cause; freedom from the Lich King himself.

Her armies were built of many of the same types of decaying undead and flesh-rending spirits, though they had fought tooth-and-nail to retain their free-will, under her guidance. In a world constantly at war, she had found these ravaged souls a home.

She was the Banshee Queen. The Dark Lady. The Queen of the Forsaken. Her many titles mattered little. They would follow her without question.

And no one set foot in her realm, without her say so. These travelers were strong, no doubt, but she had seen them in their most desperate of hours, and she knew all too well that they were far from unstoppable.

She set her sights on the large golden ship that had crashed into the mountainside. It looked like nothing she had ever seen before, not even among the fantastic wonders that the Naaru had brought with them from wherever it was that they came from.

She did not know their intentions. All she knew was that they didn't belong here and, after the battle that took place, Sylvanas realized that these outsiders would have a hard time differentiating between the Scourge and the Forsaken.

The only thing preventing these travelers from attacking her people was a mountain, that separated the Western Plaguelands from an area that had once been called Northern Lordaeron.

Sylvanas usually avoided that area. It was overrun with the Scourge and, while that normally wouldn't be enough for the Dark Lady to shy away, there was something else there far more terrifying than any terror the Lich King had to offer.

He was no more, or so they said, but the Scourge had regained a foothold in the north somehow. And if Arthas wasn't commanding the undead forces of the Scourge, then someone else was. That thought didn't sit too well with Sylvanas and, as she faded into the shadows, she couldn't help but wonder what exactly was going on in her kingdom.

* * *

Location: SPEAR OF ADUN  
XX:XX - Shipboard Time UNKNOWN  
X5:14 Hours After Impact  
Data download: ERROR  
System recalibrating...

"Do we know where we are yet?" questioned Tethis.

"Indeed, well, not precisely but we have narrowed it down," one of the Spear's technicians answered him.

Tethis knew this warrior well enough. He had fought alongside him in the battle against the Zerg earlier that day - if it even was the same day. Whenever it was, it mattered little. The Zealot had taken the full force of a Zergling attack when he came to Tethis' aid and that said all he needed to know about his character.

Since before they had come to this world, the injured Zealot had been warped aboard the Spear of Adun. The life of a Protoss was sacred, as they didn't reproduce very often given their long lifespans. As such, the race as a whole tried to save every last person they could. Even if their legs no longer worked, the Hierarch would find a cause for them to fight for. Whether they were put in Immortals, or in Stalkers, it didn't matter so much as ensuring that they could continue living or, more often than not, fighting up until their last breath.

It was the Protoss way.

"According to our space telemetry, we have somehow found ourselves within an uncharted sector of the galaxy. Looking further, we are thousands of light years away from a possible recall or long-range communication of any kind, for that matter."

"Not that it would matter," another less optimistic Protoss spat out. He, too, was technician, though Tethis had never seen this one before. He had an angry visage about him that he would likely never forget.

"The communications array on the Spear," he continued. "As well as all of the Motherships and Carrier-class ships that we had been carrying were almost completely destroyed between the warp jump and the subsequent crash. Due to the heavy damage the arkship has sustained, none of our lesser airships are in good enough condition to fly, let alone break orbit and breach into warp space!"

"Then what of salvaging what we can?" the one Tethis had known asked the only technician who hadn't offered his input yet. "Do you suppose we could at least salvage one working ship out of the wreckage?"

"We may be able to take parts from our larger vessels to repair the Spear, at the very least," he suggested.

"Impossible," said the mean technician. Tethis could tell by his severed nerve cords that he had once been a Dark Templar, but some unknown injury had likely changed his calling in life to that of the Spear's technicians.

"All essential components were damaged beyond the point of repair. It would be a wasted effort to try," reported the one Tethis had fought alongside.

"Then is there anything we can do?" the Zealot asked his injured friend. He could see the bandages still soaking up blood but the Protoss simply didn't have the manpower at that moment to let even a single life go to waste. "Could we manage to repair some of the Spear's less intricate systems using the parts that are salvageable?"

"We could certainly try," his friend said quickly, opting to not allow the pessimistic Protoss to get a word in first.

"Go on, Solstyce," the Zealot said, though it warranted him an odd look from his bitter coworker.

"Some of the arkship's secondary functions, such as its cloaking technology, could most likely be made operational given time. As for the Spear of Adun's primary functions, it's a bit more complicated than that. The Spear is not a vessel of our design and we still don't understand everything about this technology."

"It's of Xel'naga origin, correct?" Tethis had heard that before but he wasn't sure from whom, or if the information was even valid.

"Indubitably," the quieter technician added. "Though there is some hope. We've managed to get our long-range scanners running again. This world is extremely dense in its resources. We just may be able to find something out there that we could use."

"We must bring all of this information to the Hierarch," Solstyce explained, as they left the data display room.

Within minutes, the group had gathered. Artanis, his Hierarch, was there alongside the infamous Dark Templar Zeratul. There were several other Protoss in attendance that Tethis had never seen before but it was apparent to him that Artanis had gathered everyone here to instill hope within his people that day.

A holographic screen appeared in the center of the table that they had been gathered around. Not everyone in the room was able to interpret that data and, so, the majority of those that were present awaited Artanis' explanation.

"These are the reports that some of our Observers have brought back. We managed to repair three of them using parts from the damaged ones while you dealt with those strange buildings," Artanis said, as he looked to several of the Dark Templar in attendance.

"Though there is still too much data to sift through, it is apparent that this planet does have the resources required to repair the Spear of Adun. They are not an exact match but we should be able to manage. However," he continued. "It's not all good news, I'm afraid. Preliminary reports show that some of the materials are on the landmass that we currently reside on, while others appear to be on a separate landmass altogether, quite far from where we are now."

Staring at the data as it scrolled down the holographic image, Artanis could only grimace. The Observers were supposed to look for resources as its primary objective, but they had also been programmed to investigate the planets indigenous life-forms along the way. Even though they all couldn't comprehend the data in front of them, everyone present could translate the look on the Hierarch's face.

"This world is far too underdeveloped for it's inhabitants to fully comprehend what we are and our presence alone may be enough to destabilize the balance between these indigenous cultures.

"We should depart as soon as we are able to," Artanis finished.  
A plan of action had been decided upon. The Protoss would splinter into two groups. The first, led by the Hierarch himself, would remain where they were. Coincidentally, a strange mineral, that - according to their reports - could not have been native to this environment, had been located not too far to the north-east from their present location.

The other team, led by the Prelate Zeratul, would traverse the ocean to the other continent that their reports had shown traces of a substance not all that different from the Vespene gas that they had been familiar with.

While splitting the group would certainly help them gather the resources they needed in the shortest possible time, they would be cutting their numbers dangerously thin. Even though the arkship held thousands of Protoss in suspended animation aboard its containment unit, many of them had died in the crash and Artanis wouldn't even know if he had over a hundred fully capable warriors left aboard the Spear, but he saw little choice in the matter.

The reports didn't say much about the culture of the civilizations on this world. It wasn't their primary objective, after all, and it said even less about what power or tricks they possessed. The mysterious spirit energy that they had encountered earlier came to mind, though it pained Artanis to put his brethren in unnecessary danger.

Judging from their preliminary reports, there were life-forms on the planet that were a nearly identical genetic duplicates to that of the humans within the Koprulu Sector, though they were usually called Terrans. There was no way, given what they had seen thus far on this world, that they were anywhere near the technological level of the Terrans that they had come to know. Artanis guessed that they wouldn't be much of an issue but it was never a good idea to underestimate a situation. He would do his best to avoid them altogether.

As charismatic of a leader as Artanis was, he needed the advice of a much older and wiser individual and, after everyone else had left the room, he sought Zeratul's guidance.

"What do you make of this matter, old friend?"

The Dark Templar narrowed his eyes as he looked over the data that had been gathered. He tapped his finger on the table as he thought the plan over.

"I don't see many other options. I believe you chose the only option left open to us," Zeratul answered, honestly.

"And given the prowess of my Narezim, who better to lead them into this unknown land while remaining unseen?"

"My thoughts precisely," the Hierarch said, though he was hoping for more from the war-hardened veteran.  
"I could not agree more, that it is within our best interests to limit our contact with the natives of this world. We do not want to attract more unnecessary attention than we have already."

"Duly noted," answered Artanis. "I have one more favor to ask of you, brother. The Zealot, Tethis. Take him with you. I feel there is much he can learn from you on this trek."

Zeratul shot Artanis a confused look.

"There is an unnaturally strong psionic energy with that one. Did you not see how he was able to manipulate his energy shield to catch his comrade? It's all the warriors have been talking about since the battle's conclusion."

"I had heard, though it isn't that odd to be honest," the Prelate responded, still trying to figure out where Artanis was heading with the conversation.

"Your right. It isn't that odd for someone of our caliber. But for a Zealot who had only begun his training at the end of the Brood War? I feel there is much he can learn from you on this trek."

"As you wish, Hierarch," he bowed. He wasn't sure if he could put as much faith in the Zealot as Artanis had, but he would obey him none-the-less. For as wise as Zeratul was, his willingness to learn - even from someone much younger than himself - was what had kept him alive thus far. Perhaps Tethis and himself had something they could learn from one another.

"May the gods watch over you on your journey, Zeratul."

With the conclusion of their meeting heralded by the saying ' _En taro Tassadar_ ,' the Protoss who were to cross the ocean set out to prepare all they would need before embarking on their mission.

Unbeknownst the them, however, the world had already learned of their coming and, despite the best efforts of all those who had been aboard the Spear of Adun that day, the few who had learned of their existence had become curious.


	3. Foundation

**Chapter 3: Foundation**

Location: UNKNOWN, the Star Forge aboard the Spear of Adun  
XX:XX - Shipboard Time UNKNOWN  
X6:16 - Hours After Inpact  
Data download: ERROR  
System recalibrating...

His friend had worked quickly to establish a mental link to coordinate their efforts. He had wanted to be prepared for whatever would arise-and before anyone could leave, there was work that needed to be done. Zeratul was certain.

The Stalkers had been made fully functional some time ago and after their assembly there were about a dozen Dark Templar that stood in attendance. The war machines were ready to embrace the shadow-essence of the willing Nerazim.

Artanis, as well, was in attendance though he wasn't one of the warriors who would be bound with one of the machines. Two of the men who would, though, were of his own clan, the Zer'atai.

Back on Shakuras the Zer'atai had been known for wearing the skeletal remains of their vanquished foes. There was a time when the entire clan had dressed that way but that had long since passed. Zeratul remembered those days fondly. They were simpler back then. He knew where he was then, at least.

He possessed a rare talent among his people: the ability to astrally project himself across the cosmos. He had learned to psionically communicate with someone light years away, and they could see him, though he was not actually there. Though all Protoss possessed some form of telepathic communication, Zeratul's ability far surpassed any of his peoples. It terrified him that he could currently find no soul he had had ever encountered within the distance that his power extended to.

The Stalkers that received the souls of the Dark Templar that day would at least provide him and his clan some much needed air support. In addition, they were fully capable of 'blinking' just like the Nerazim that piloted them, among other abilities, but they had been permanently grafted onto the machines themselves. And even though they had volunteered, it was hard for Zeratul to watch the scene before him.

Several robotic drones flew about him. These particular models were more round than most, though they served the same function as the Protoss' other variations of the Probe model. They had been equipped with miniature energy projectors which shot out small particle beams. The beams were used to collect samples of various minerals but also had the potential to damage targets that it deemed a threat. Using the same particle beam, it was also able to construct buildings from scratch, given time, and more than one Probe could aid in its construction, which greatly sped up the buildings completion.

The Probes just floated there for a moment like some insect inspecting the various Protoss that were present. The Prelate helped one of the Zer'atai approach one of the silvery metallic machines known as Stalkers.

They were likely crafted of the same alloy as Zeratul's armor and looked like some sort of four legged spider, though the mechanical hull that it carried on its top looked as if it had a cloaked face.

It was attached to the wall behind him and several wires and tendrils seemed to be attached to the dozens of Stalkers that were littered around the room.

Zeratul closed his eyes as the Probe approached his former student. His screams pained him to listen but he knew he would be born anew.

* * *

Location: UNKNOWN, the Bridge aboard the Spear of Adun  
XX:XX - Shipboard Time UNKNOWN  
26:00 - Hours After Impact  
Data download: ERROR  
System recalibrating...

Wanting to be prepared for whatever situation that would arise, other Probes set about dismantling all of the unnecessary parts among the myriad of wreckage in the Spear of Adun's starport. Some of the larger motherships that had been destroyed could at least have some components that could be reused or repurposed for whatever they needed to establish themselves in the region. Other buildings, such as the stargate, were pointless to keep around with their limited power supply.

Some of the starships were, unbelievably, still salvageable and Artanis decided that he would not dismantle the few that could be fixed. While some of the smaller ships were already being repaired, every vessel they could fix would prove extremely useful in their quest to return home. They simply didn't have the resources to build more and without a fully functional shipyard and only a limited number of Probes for repairs, it would take some time to get them operational again.

By then, they had fully repaired ten of the drones from the salvaged parts and the Hierarch had planned to give Zeratul four of them to aid him on his mission. If he could manage to get a warp gate built after he arrived on the other continent, it would prove to be invaluable in its ability to instantly transport units over vast distances. The power supply that remained on board the Spear could only activate the warp gate for brief moments but if his brother Zeratul could could get another one operational, it would definitely make their resource gathering mission run that much smoother.

They would have to improvise a bit if they ever wanted to get the other warp gate operational though. They required materials that were not native to this world and it worried Artanis that they wouldn't be able to find anything capable of handling the energy output on the planet.

Pushing these worries to the side of his mind, he had greater things to think about then. They had to find a way to protect the mining operations once they got them up and running again and the Spear's shields wouldn't be able to support both the arkship and the mining facilities.

To attempt to rectify the problem, Artanis needed to make a few more modifications to the computers coding. He did so with little issue but it meant that the warp gates would be unable to send anything through larger than a Stalker, once the other warp gate had been established. In addition, Artanis limited the shields energy output so that the two systems wouldn't interfere with one another.

Using bits of salvageable crystal circuitry that they were able to gather, the Probes set out to physically reroute the wiring throughout the Spear of Adun. Artanis, himself, had written the new macro program to compensate for the irregularities.

* * *

Location: UNKNOWN, the Recovery Bay of the Spear of Adun  
XX:XX - Shipboard Time UNKNOWN  
26:00 - Hours After Impact  
Data download: ERROR  
System recalibrating...

After a day - at least what seemed to be a day on that particular world - the Protoss had managed to get the warp gate aboard the Spear of Adun stabilized. Everything else, on that end at least, was up to Zeratul and the group he would be taking to the other continent. Even well after they established a connection they would only be able to send one unit through at a time without overloading the system just as his Hierarch had calculated.

It was all that the rerouted power could handle. As for powering the shields by the mines, a large conduit was built to be directly connected to the Spear of Adun's power core.

As far as recruits had went, Tethis was of the lowest rank of the Zealot Order. He was young by Protoss standards, only a few hundred years old. Though he felt he still had much to learn as his path had continued to throw him interesting twists and turns. In the more recent battles he had participated in, he felt a strange surge of power unlike anything he had ever felt before. He had no idea where it had come from.

That thought baffled him as he stared upon the multitude of containment tubes that held the wounded Protoss warriors somewhere in the recovery bay of the Spear. Hundreds of golden metallic tendrils seemed to grasp at the glass containers that held the recovering warriors aloft. The containers were filled with a translucent, green liquid and, though the being inside had no mouth, its body moved as if it were breathing.

Tethis counted fifty-or-so of the containment vessels that were lined up in rows of five. Each row stretched to cover the majority of the rooms floor, and Tethis approached one of the vessels in the row nearest to the entrance-way.

The room, itself, was built of some dark gray metal that Tethis had never seen before. He figured it to be of Xel'naga origin, though he couldn't be sure. The rooms dull color stood in great contrast to the sparkling gold of the containment vessels and the bright liquid held within them. The Zealot knew that the bright green liquid would eventually repair the damage their bodies had sustained on the unknown world that was home to the ruthless Zerg, as well as the artifact they sought.

The Khalai, or High Templar as they were called by outsiders, had fallen early in the battle and had been recalled back to the ship just prior to their doom. Every Protoss warrior had a machine that had been grafted into them and the technicians aboard any of the species' larger ships could recall them at any time to save their lives, even if barely, and most of the people in the stasis pods had been been called there before they had even come to this new world.

Tethis couldn't help but wonder what they would think when they woke up in this new world. Some would fully recover but others would be placed in more Immortals, or Stalkers - or something else entirely even - once they had finished the repairs on some of their Protoss machinery.

Tethis put his hand on the glass of the container that held one he believed to be a High Templar. Laying there, completely still in the chamber, he thought the that the warrior looked at peace. It was an awkward sight given the condition his clothing had been in.

He wore a light-weight armor that covered his most of his shoulders and chest but the rest was badly damaged below that. He had - what seemed to have once been - some form of cloth that covered his lower regions but it looked to have been mostly burned away by some corrosive liquid - Zerg saliva, most likely.

All else aside, he looked to be healing rather well among the bright green glow of the containment tubes. As he looked around the dark room, the mysterious liquid barely gave the area much lighting at all. He scanned over the rest of the containment tubes as the though occurred to him that most wouldn't be as lucky as the one he had stood at.

* * *

Location: UNKNOWN, outside of the Spear of Adun  
XX:XX - Shipboard Time UNKNOWN  
28:32 - Hours After Impact  
Data download: ERROR  
System recalibrating...

Artanis had hoped that the Colossi would be back online by now, but the technicians were still having issues getting the machines connected to the mainframe's matrix. The first thing he had ordered the Probes to build was a large, pyramid-shaped building known as a Nexus. They only had enough salvageable resources to construct one but getting it finished would provide them with invaluable support in their desperate hour.

The Nexus was used by the Protoss as a psychic anchor, allowing them to access the psionic matrix. High Templar used this matrix to tap into knowledge of the ancients known by no other members of their species.

The Nexus lacked the point of a traditional pyramid and, instead, had a small blue crystal that floated at its apex. The beautiful khaydarin crystals were its primary power source and the building was decorated with them.

When it had been completed, Artanis programmed each of the ten robotic drones to construct a foundation for the crash-survivors to build upon. First, they built several pylons in the ships vicinity to help draw power from the matrix of the Nexus.

Each pylon held a large khaydarin crystal that seemed to hover there, surrounded by a golden metallic casing that spun around it. While the Nexus would provide the link to the psionic matrix, the pylons were required to provide psionic energy to the colony.

As far as the recovery of the crew of the Spear of Adun was concerned, a few of the Zealots and the Khalai would manage to make full recoveries. There were a few, however, as well as some Dark Templar, that were either unexpected to survive or required to be permanently bonded to Protoss machinery to live out the remainder of their lives.

In addition, the arkship's technicians reported that they would have a few of their Scout-class vessels online within a days time. Artanis hoped to be able to take a few on his own mission. He had a fondness for piloting that class of ship.

As for the reconstruction and repair of the arkship's equipment and systems, a proper robotics facility had been built outside of the crash wreckage. Despite there being one aboard the Spear of Adun, the arkship was in no shape to scrap some of the larger motherships that had been destroyed upon impact though it could handle some of the smaller repairs that could be brought back to working order.

The three motherships that were usually aboard the Spear, had been slowly dismantled and taken to the robotics facility to be repurposed into other machinery. The cores that powered the motherships were absolutely vital in the outposts construction.

Artanis knew that he didn't have many resources to waste. Their khaydarin crystals were very limited, for one, and they had no way to get more. They had no Vespene gas to speak of as well and they had been lucky they were able to salvage as much as they could from scrapping the motherships and other lesser-machinery.

* * *

Location: UNKNOWN, outside of the Spear of Adun  
XX:XX - Shipboard Time UNKNOWN  
48:00 - Hours After Impact  
Data download: ERROR  
System recalibrating...

It had been decided that Zeratul would lead his Dark Templar, along with a few others, on an expedition across the ocean to get to the resources they needed and within two days time the Protoss' outpost had been fully established within the region.

The robotics bay, by then, had repaired one of the Warp Prisms and two Scout-class vessels, though the Scouts wouldn't be joining him for his mission. They were ordered to watch over the Spear of Adun itself.

The Warp Prism, which was tiny in comparison to the Spear, shot out a beam that digitized everything it touched as it passed over a platoon of Protoss warriors. Roughly thirty Dark Templar and a dozen Zealots that had recovered over the past few days were pulled into the ship. Immediately following them, four Stalkers were digitized and brought aboard another Warp Prism alongside four of the ten Probes.

Zeratul adjusted his armor. He tightened the leather straps that held his intricate armor to his upper body. The steel-like armor was lined in violet trim and sharp and rigid at every angle. Green orbs of some kind of psionic energy decorated his pauldrons, gauntlets, and leg-plates.

Zeratul placed a mask about his face that matched the violet hue of the trim on his shoulders. Two large segments covered the majority of his face from the brow up. Another segment covered his cheeks and part of it hung from his chin looking like an exaggerated goatee of Terran physiology.

There was a pitch black cavity that only the glow of his eyes could be seen behind. The mask concealed his identity completely. Subtlety was the way of the Narezim.

Zeratul thought of Artanis then and he had hoped that they would be able to use some of the mined resources that they had found to power at least a few of their systems. He felt his friend calling out to him as he began to break away into digital fragments.

"Be careful, Zeratul," he heard Artanis calling out to his mind, as his body broke apart around him. "According to the reports brought back by our Observers, there has been a lot of political and ecological turmoil on this world, lately. Several factions wage war with one another and countless other species, as well, all vie for doinanance in this world at war.

"Some of them are identical to Terrans in physiology. It would seem the beings we encountered two days ago were the decaying remnants of those people."

Zeratul narrowed his eyes.

"This may prove to be more troubling than we had anticipated," the Prelate of the Dark Templar noted.

"Indeed. We do not want to get involved in this worlds conflicts. Seek out any minerals or other usable resources as quickly as possible. We have no further business here," Artanis reiterated.

Though they were on other ends of their newly established base, at that moment, Zeratul nodded in reply none-the-less. Despite not actually seeing the gesture, his psionic energy was understood by Artanis who had headed the repairs of the Spear of Adun.

"Let us hope we can avoid getting pulled into this conflict," the Prelate said, as he was digitized alongside the last of his troops and downloaded into the Warp Prisms memory banks. Two Observers flew at the ships side, keeping an eye out for potential threats.

* * *

Location: UNKNOWN  
XX:XX - Shipboard Time UNKNOWN  
48:15 - Hours After Impact  
Data download: ERROR  
System recalibrating...

Artanis watched the ships fly off into the distance from the view-port in the Spear of Adun's control room.

"En Taro Tassadar," he said to his friend, though he knew he couldn't actually hear him then.

Now that their plan had been set in motion, there was no turning back. Artanis looked At his computer screen. Even though his friend had just left, there was still much that to be done on his end.

"What is our status?" he asked, as he did a systems check of the Spear of Adun.

"All systems are stable, with no irregularities in the power fluctuations," a technician answered.

"The psionic power matrix is holding steady, Hierarch. The Nexus is unable to connect to Aiur, though we can attempt to establish a connection using a satellite world to rebound the transmission," explained another.

"Repairs of the arkship's hull are thirty percent complete but it will take some time to get all of the secondary systems back online. Until then, most of the Spear's primary systems will be unusable," the first technician went on.

"I see." Artanis grimaced as he left the arkships bridge. "I shall be gone for a little while Solstyce. I want you to watch after our foothold, continue with the repairs, and oversee the construction of additional buildings. We will be here longer than we anticipate, and it's time we start planning accordingly.

"I need you to focus on the mining operations here. I will be heading to northeast. There is a rather large city there according to our Observers."

"Hierarch, you can't be serious!" Solstyce, the first technician, snapped back.

"It cannot be helped," he answered simply. "If we do encounter the natives of these lands, I would prefer to avoid conflict as much as possible. If they can be reasoned with, then it would be best that I go. The people of this world may be primitive, but that doesn't mean they are without their strengths.

"It is also why I have asked Zeratul to cross the ocean. Despite his warrior code of conduct, he is a very diplomatic individual and, should a problem arise, he can just as easily vanish."

"Should you at least not take more of our forces with you?" Solstyce worried.

"No, our brethren shall stay here with the ships to aid in their repairs. Once we have gathered the necessary resources, the Forge will be finished and we can synthesize the parts that we will need." The Hierarch paused for a moment.

"In addition, it would be in all of our best interests to keep our numbers small as to not startle or arouse the attention of the natives."

Artanis then walked over to a monitor in one of the Spear of Adun's hallways. He typed in some sequence and it beeped a few times in response.

"If trouble occurs, we should have enough power to summon assistance through the warp gate," the Hierarch said matter-of-factly.

"Understood, Hierarch. En taro Tassadar," Solstyce answered his leader. He would do exactly as he wished.

The simple technician didn't feel qualified enough to be in charge of an outpost as vital as the one he had been asked to watch over that day. He watched as Artanis was downloaded into another Warp Prism just outside of the Spear of Adun. Two Scout-class ships hovered beside the Warp Prism, as a third approached its rear.

In addition to the three Scouts, he took only a few Templar with him, both Khalai and Narezim, though that was hopefully all they would need. The High Templar hadn't fully healed, but they would be well enough for the mission assuming it went as smoothly as planned.

* * *

Location: UNKNOWN

At about that same time, and not far from where Zeratul's intended destination had been, a rather muscular figure stood near the base of the world's largest mountain, halfway across the world. Sacred ruins were littered about, composed of ancient monumental stone slabs that had been aligned in a perfect circle.

He appeared human enough, though his skin had a violet hue to it. His head was crowned with two large antlers that curved back over his long, forest green hair that had been kept up in a ponytail. His ears were long and pointy, as was his long unkempt beard, that failed to conceal his look of worry.

He had a belt that looked to be made of stone, with the symbol of a crescent moon adorned on it. He had massive bear claws that served as shoulder armor and another pair that covered his hands as if they were fist-weapons.

"Broll Bearmantle..." the wind spoke as it blew past.

He looked up curiously as the wind seemed to cause the trees surrounding the ruins to creak under its strain. One of the trees fell under the might of the massive gale. Two of the tree's branches reached out, if it could be called that, catching the mighty oak before it actually hit the ground.

The tree pulled itself free from the ground and came to life. It stretched its limbs and shook itself rigorously, freeing hundreds of amber-colored leaves that fell around the man called Broll.

The bark in the middle of the the trees trunk stretched and skewered until it resembled a face. It creaked as it moved towards Broll and it lowered its face to meet that of his own.

"Onu..." Broll said.

"Why have you disturbed my ancestral slumber?" the oak named Onu asked as it let out a yawn.

"I sense something happening in the south. I have had visions of demons coming, though they are unlike anything we have ever seen before."

"That time has passed. Why do you concern yourself with such things?" the tree asked.

"If you recall, Onu, I lost my daughter Anessa in that war! That is why I concern myself with such things," Broll cried, unable to contain his emotions.

"Calm yourself, young one." Broll was not young, by any means, but he couldn't bare to ignore the wisdom of one such as an Ancient. "I shall look into this matter personally."

Onu's eyes glowed white before his wooden eyelids closed and he began to chant in some ancient tongue that Broll had only ever heard spoken by the Ancients themselves. Seconds later, it opened its eyes and the white white light that emanated from them faded.

"Yes, I can feel it as well. There is a buildup of some strange power. It harms the trees and I can hear their cries," Onu expressed.

"I don't fully understand this but I wish to find out what is going on here. I will warn Tyrande and Velen, then head south to investigate."

"Broll..." the wise tree leaned closer to the the man in bear-armor. "Be careful when meddling in the affairs of the south. I hear in Uldum, they dabble in things even the Titans couldn't fully comprehend."

Broll nodded and with that, the ancient tree known as Onu turned and walked back to where he was rooted into the ground moments earlier.


	4. A New Home

**Chapter 4: A New Home**

Location: Quel'thalas, northern-most area of the Eastern Kingdoms  
XX:XX - Shipboard Time UNKNOWN  
48:32 - Hours After Impact  
Data download: ERROR  
System recalibrating...

The Warp Prism had set its course and, in no time at all, Artanis had arrived at his destination. By the time they had traveled to the energy signature in the north east, the Protoss' Observers had gathered even more data about the world and its diverse life.

The world that the Spear of Adun had crashlanded into had been called Azeroth by its native inhabitants. It had several large landmasses on it and, interestingly enough, an odd storm that manifested itself in between each of them. The storm had been known as the Maelstrom and had somehow been intertwined with the world's rich history.

The area that they had established their base on was a continent known as Lordaeron. The area that their most particular mission took them was to an island to the north of a large city called Silvermoon.

The region was home to a multitude of species, including several Terran-like races. One species that the locals called Humans were even near complete genetic duplicates of them, with such minor differences that it wasn't even noticeable to the naked eye.

There were ones that were shorter and stockier than them but still looked vaguely human, nonetheless. They were children of the stone, one of the many types of Dwarves that inhabited the world of Azeroth.

Green monstrous humanoids known as Orcs, who were apparently not native to this world either, had a small number in the region though they too were primitive in comparison to the benevolent Protoss. The Orcs had allied themselves with a tall lanky species called Trolls that also had a small claim in the region though considerably more than their allies. Specifically, they were Forest Trolls and the reports had noted their incredible regeneration as its most interesting biological feature.

Also, Artanis had noted that they had made their base between two major cities that had been a part of a coalition called the Horde. Many of the world's races had taken up the banner of this Horde, including some of the undead they had encountered earlier.

Not far to the southwest was the underground fortress known as the Undercity that had been inhabited by a large number of the undead creatures they had fought earlier, when they had first arrived. Though these undead seemed to have brief thoughts that Artanis could sense, even if they couldn't totally read the creatures minds.

"What madness is this?" Artanis wondered as he rematerialized and the reports flooded in.

A little farther northeast - where Artanis had found himself then - was the capital of the race known as the Blood Elves. According to their Observers, the Blood Elves of Silvermoon had control of a massive fount of energy that Artanis had intended to investigate, and if they were allied with these undead creatures he couldn't be so sure that his meeting would go so well. For whatever reason, however, the decaying creatures flooded into the city regardless of their allegiance.

But what had gotten the Hierarch's attention when they touched down in the secluded area not far from the city of Silvermoon was not the various warring people of the region but rather the massive amounts of smoke that blanketed the area. The buildings were unlike anything Artanis had ever seen and, as primitive as his reports had called these creatures, he looked in wonder at their magnificent architecture even as it was set ablaze. Their golden and red curves flickered behind the flames.

It was standard protocol to scan the area for environmental disturbances or possible hostile threats, and the Observer relayed an image of the town being under siege by the same undead creatures that they had encountered a few days earlier.

It appeared that their advances had been halted for the moment, however, by a small group of the creatures known as Blood Elves. They looked close enough to what a Terran would look like with no battle armor on, though they were much more slender and moved with a grace of their own. Artanis had to appreciate their beauty.

The Hierarch watched for a moment. He didn't want to interfere but the area had been highly populated and considering he would have to deal with whoever the victor was anyway, he decided that he wasn't left with much of a choice. He had already encountered the hostility of the decaying monsters once and, so, he opted to help the other fighters in the battle.

According to the reports, the creatures that they had encountered after their crash had once spread over the land like a scourge of death, consuming all life in its wake. He could feel the dark energy permeating its way over the landscape and thought of his own feeling of hopelessness when the undead creatures came upon them in the mountainside.

The data that had come back on the undead creatures was phenomenal. It had been apparent that their existence on this world was unnatural from an ethical standpoint but they seemed to have been afflicted on a genetic level with some disease that, interestingly enough, should never have been found on this world to begin with. He wondered if the Orcs had brought it to this world with them, wherever they were from.

The disease had affected nearly every race on the face of Azeroth in one way, shape or form. Humanity had been affected the most, losing an entire continent to the disease, though one Observer had found a mysterious floating structure not far to the south that contained even Trolls and Orcs that had been afflicted with some form of the plague, though initial reports showed that it seemed to affect them differently than anything else they had encountered thus far.

As he watched the hulking Abominations lumber towards the city, he worried that the Blood Elves would be able to hold the gate. They looked surprised, confused at why their allies would attack them, and Artanis realized that something was not right.

Noticing what he was likely thinking about, one of the female Khalai under his command stepped forward then.

"We should not concern ourselves with them," she said. "Those rotting creatures are close enough to detect us and, more importantly, we should not involve ourselves with the affairs of this world but we can't sit idle and do nothing!"

"I agree, Hierarch," added another of his warriors piloting a Stalker. "It would be unwise to involve ourselves in this battle, considering our limited resources. However, you are our leader and we shall follow you without question."

Artanis narrowed his eyes as his warriors offered their input. He did have quite a bit to think about. On one hand, he didn't want to endanger the lives of his brethren on nothing more than a whim. He wasn't even sure that the mysterious energy would actually do what he had hoped it would.

The Hierarch believed it could power the Spears anti-matter engines, but he truly had no idea if it would. It was simply the choice closest to their current location to warrant an investigation.

His warriors were right. What had occurred there in the city of Silvermoon, as much of a massacre as it could prove to be, was still within the natural happenings of the world. Civilizations came and went, as the Protoss had seen on countless world's before, and they had no right to dictate who should allowed to survive.

But on the other hand, he was just as restless as his brethren. These undead were very much like the Zerg in their own right. Mindless creatures that came in endless waves, hellbent on extinguishing all life in their path. Simply remembering the fall of Auir and thinking about what their forefather's - the Xel'naga - would do in their position, the path was clear.

"My life for Aiur," they all began to chant. Without anyone actually expressing so, every warrior present agreed that they could not sit by idly and watch the Blood Elves die. Though they shouldn't have made contact with the natives at all, they simply couldn't afford to walk away empty handed.

As he nodded, Artanis had been glad to have his brethren at his side. Hordes of undead rolled in from the south and the slender humanoids known as the Blood Elves marched to the gate to meet them.

"This will be interesting, indeed..." Artanis said.

* * *

Location: The Gates of Silvermoon, Quel'thalas

"Leave no Scourge left standing!" Sylvanas Windrunner yelled from atop her undead steed. The creature looked as if it had once been a horse, though it had long since abandoned that life. It's cold blue eyes glowed with something that had once been dark in nature.

Several archers that seemed somewhat transparent appeared out of thin air within the marvelous Blood Elven capital. As the archers manifested, several gruesome catapults rolled in that had been built of wood. They had pitch forks placed in weird formations, along its sides and one larger one on the front of the machines.

Sylvanas had called them meat wagons and she ordered the undead minions that piloted the things to take them into the city. She was not there that day to lay claim to the home of the Blood Elves, however. She had arrived to aid them in their endeavors. Though she didn't do so to help them at all, but to hopefully learn the identity of whoever was commanding these undead creatures that had been terrorizing the area.

They had attacked her home. She had seen them attack the mysterious travelers a few days ago and now they were attacking Lor'thermar Theron and his people. They were clearly trying to get a foothold in the region, though Sylvanas had no clue as to their intentions. She had to get to the bottom of this.

"We must find Lor'themar immediately. We need to clear a path to get a messenger through," the Banshee Queen shouted as she continued to fire a barrage of arrows at the undead that pressed the main gates of Silvermoon.

The entrance to the city suddenly erupted into chaos as the the meat wagons launched barrels of some liquid that crashed into the Abominations and melted bits of them in the process. The mindless Scourge that attacked the Blood Elf guards were sniped by either the Dark Rangers or Sylvanas herself, and others still were slain by the guards themselves and their massive broadswords.

They wore the red battle-armor of Quel'thalas that was typical of the Silvermoon Guard, wielding large broadswords that they swung with one arm as they held long slender shields in the other. Without a moment to waste, the guards slashed and stabbed at the lesser undead with ease.

The dark rangers fired their arrows and eventually a line had been opened up and Sylvanas could make her way through.

She spun around and disappeared from the field of battle in a cloud of black smoke. She appeared a few seconds later several feet away and she continued to blink in and out as clouds were left in her wake with each movement that she made.

She hadn't gone very far into the city before she found who she was looking for. He had already assembled the entirety of the Silvermoon Guard, and the Blood Knights as well.

"Sylvanas! What form of treachery is this?" the Regent-Lord shouted as soon as he crossed eyes with the Banshee Queen.

"Lor'themar. Truly, this is not my doing. I have no idea what is going on here," Sylvanas yelled out to him from the shadows. "The Scourge have been mobilizing again these last few weeks."

"What? We haven't heard anything from them in years. Not since Arthas was slain during the Northrend expedition," the unintentional leader of the Blood Elves said.

He was not of royal lineage. In fact, he was the military advisor to the last of the noble line, Prince Kael'thas Sunstrider, who had gone mad after his exposure to nether energies. The Prince had simply left Lor'themar in charge when he had departed for the fragmented world known as Outland.

"Precisely what worries me. Someone else is behind this," she said. "Who, I have no idea but it is rather strange."

"My Queen," one of her rangers called out as she ran towards Sylvanas Windrunner. "The Scourge have breached the city walls."

"Preposterous!" Lor'themar shouted. "I will not let this happen again!"

"Let us get to the bottom of this, together," the Banshee Queen said.

She had once been a High Elf, herself. Her life had been taken away in the same battle that the Blood Elves had changed their name in. It had only been a few years, then, but the fall of the Sunwell was a symbol for many. Oddly enough, Sylvanas' own Forsaken had found a home within the Horde and eventually had helped the Blood Elves join the same coalition as well.

The battle that day raged on for some time and, after the fall of Silvermoon's inner gates, the undead had a direct route to the capital. Knowing of the invading army, they continued to fight until it was apparent that they were simply toying with them.

Out of nowhere, an awkward sounding, repetitive flap in the distance drew everyone's attention skyward. Several flying creatures that looked to be made of stone - Gargoyle's they were called - flew in from all directions. The sheer number of them that dotted the sky was intimidating, but it didn't seem to be enough to overwhelm the Forsaken or the Blood Elves just yet. Whoever it was that controlled the Scourge was trying to instill fear and despair in them. True fear came from knowing one's fate, and knowing that their death was inevitable.

Sylvanas understood what they were trying to do - she had once been one of them - and they were severely outnumbered but they would not give up. Sylvanas and her dark rangers knew there would be no escape from this.

Such a task seemed more than unlikely as all available hands were needed just to prevent their position from collapsing. As their blades and arrows met with flesh, their battle of attrition waged on.

The Scourge were numerous and never tired while the Blood Elves grew weary from all of the fighting. The Forsaken rangers maintained their feverish pace as one would expect from a creature that truly no longer lived and, charging through their hail of arrows, one by one the Scourge forces fell.

"Siege weapons, now!" Sylvanas shouted, and barrels of acidic liquid went tumbling towards the masses of Gargoyle's that flew around in the sky above them. When one got hit, the explosion took the others around the flying creature down with it. The attack proved to be surprisingly effective.

"Why have you not yet shown your face, wretch?" she called out to whomever it was that commanded the Scourge. "Or perhaps that's exactly the problem. You have no face to show..." Sylvanas may have once lost her life at the hands of Arthas Menethil, but she hadn't lost her tactical genius, or even her wit for that matter.

Realizing his assault wasn't going as smoothly as planned, Sylvanas' true target had showed his face. Or it's face, depending on who it was she was more worried about at that moment.

The largest Abomination she had ever seen came tumbling into the city then. He tore off the walls of nearby buildings as he barreled his way through Silvermoon's walkways. Lamposts and cobblestone were bent and broken as the creature forced its way through obstacles that stood in its path.

Rather than carrying an axe in his right arm as the others had, a loud motor let Sylvanas know that this was no mere Abomination at all. He carried what seemed to be some kind of motorized sawblade of goblin design in place of it. His main left hand ended in what looked to be some kind of stinger and another arm that sprouted from his left shoulder wielded a machete.

The creature was called Stitches. And the man that created him was named Abercrombie the Embalmer.

The man had once been little more than a kindly alchemist, living just south of Stormwind at Raven Hill. One day, he had been driven mad by the death of his wife, Eliza. In an attempt to save her life, he used an unknown form of dark magic to place his own still-beating heart within the bosom of his dead spouse.

While the magic worked, it had cursed her with a hunger for human flesh. That revelation forced Abercrombie to keep her buried, despite his attempts to curb her new appetite.

The dark magic he had tampered with was known as necromancy. The majority of its spells and incantations had to deal with raising the dead and spreading the undead plague.

Necromancers learned how to manipulate flesh, bone, and organs of dead creatures into the sewn up entities known as Abominations. In time, Abercrombie had forged a colossal Abomination of his own that he had named Stitches. It was eventually unleashed on the town of Duskwood, though brave adventurers had managed to stop him before it could wreak any more havoc. Abercrombie, however, had lived on.

Somehow the Necromancer had rejuvenated his monstrous Abomination and, apparently, now commanded a cluster of undead that fought alongside it. Sylvanas wasn't sure if they were remnants of the Scourge anymore. They seemed to be commanded by the Necromancer.

Knowing defeat was moments away, however, the Ebalmer led the final charge himself. Most likely, he had wanted to personally end the annoyance she had caused in trying to stop Lord Putress' plans, as she knew him to be an associate of his at the time.

"I am sorry, but I can no longer fight," one of the Blood Knights yelled out. He tried to call out to the Light but it would aid him no more as the stinger-like arm of Stitches pierced the warriors shoulder. He screamed in agony as he fell to the ground.

Lor'thermar grimaced at seeing his fellow comrade fall in battle. It pained him that they couldn't protect their wounded as they were all now completely surrounded.

He pulled his sword from its sheath. It's dull gray color stood in stark contrast to the bright colors seen around Silvermoon.

Their position had been overrun.

"Everyone, back to back!" the former Ranger-General of Silvermoon commanded as the group re-positioned themselves around her.

Lor'themar obeyed. Not because he had to but because a long time ago, when Sylvanas had still been among the living, he had once served under her during the Second War. And, as such, he respected her military guidance and recognized her as his superior in that regard.

The remaining Blood Knights followed her order then too, however the Scourge had come upon them too fast to repel them all. The Dark Rangers couldn't knock their arrows fast enough to kill every one and some had begun to resort to using their bows like clubs to whack their enemies away.

They were quickly becoming too much to deal with then as whacking them did very little damage, and the creatures didn't feel much in terms of pain. The blades of the Blood Knights barely made them grunt, even as it sliced some of their heads clean off.

Slowly Sylvanas' comrades fell and before long it was only her and Lor'themar left standing.

By then, Sylvanas had resorted to wielding a truesilver arrow in each hand as if it were a dagger, stabbing at anything that dared to get near enough to her. Lor'themar Theron had been quickly indisposed, being swatted aside in the scuffle but, in the end, even the Banshee Queen fell to the might of the monstrous Abomination.

Stitches pressed its weight onto her chest with its massive foot. The tremendous weight still hurt despite her undeath.

* * *

Location: The Dead Scar of Silvermoon, Quel'thalas

The man known as Abercrombie rode atop the right shoulder of the colossal Abomination. It walked casually onward, the ghouls and geists of the Scourge skittering to the side as the thing wanted to look upon it's prize.

"There will be much I can gather here today for my experiments. Elven magic always proves to yield rather interesting results," the man on the creatures shoulders said as Stitches crushed her under its weight.

He ordered the creature to step off of the Queen of the Forsaken, and though she felt no pain, she couldn't move a bit. A smirk formed in the corner of Abercrombie's lips as a Gargoyle swooped down and picked her up with its rock-encrusted legs. The animated statue carried her limp body up to eye level with the human atop Stitches shoulder.

Sylvanas did not want to appear frightened when looking the man in the eyes. She had suffered through far worse at the hands of the Death Knight Arthas Menethil.

"After all you've put me through, Banshee, maybe I will bind your soul into that of Stitches. Surely, your ghastly abilities would make a fine addition to his repertoire," the man taunted. He wore an unremarkable tattered gray robe and the man seemed to be mentally unstable, the way his head would jerk from side to side occasionally.

Stitches grabbed her out of the Gargoyle's grasp and crushed her with his bare hands when, out of nowhere, a strange crackling sound carried through the air that caught Abercrombie off guard. It sounded as if a storm was coming.

As he turned around, he saw that the sky had suddenly darkened. Lightning crackled from the darkness, incinerating the undead minions Abercrombie had brought with him.

"Elven magic?" he asked, as he recognized the storm to be unnatural.

Three strange bird-like creatures soared through the sky, coming straight for the gargantuan creature and his puppeteer. With as fast as they moved, none of the undead had time to react to their presence.

When they were finally over top of them, however, the large metal birds shot out some kind of stream of blue energy. As it hit the wounded Blood Elves and several of Sylvanas' undead that had seemed to fight alongside the Elves, it formed a bubble around each one and they all began to hover in mid-air.

Behind these strange birds floated some kind of crystal that the energy bubbles began to gravitate towards. Passing through the crystal, the Blood Elves and the Forsaken began to distort and break down into fragments of mysterious energy as they were pulled into the crystal.

"Get them!" Abercrombie yelled at his horde of Gargoyle's, as only they could even hope to take off after the metallic birds.

However, his attempt proved to fail as the things were far too fast and easily out-maneuvered his flying stone creatures. He watched as it flew to the edge of his army and it seemed to take on some other shape as it flew away from the city of Silvermoon.

"What in the world was that?" the man asked the flesh-sewn creature, though he didn't truly expect much of a response.

"What do you suppose they have done with my prisoners?" he asked no one but himself.


	5. First Contact

**Chapter 5: First Contact**

Location: Just outside of Silvermoon City  
XX:XX - Shipboard Time UNKNOWN  
49:52 - Hours After Impact  
Data download: ERROR  
System recalibrating...

"Quickly, activate the warp matrix! Send them in now!" Artanis ordered, aboard one of the Scout-class vessels that darted over the battle-worn city below.

"Immediately! Sending reinforcements in now!" one of the technicians aboard the Spear of Adun's bridge reported.

Within moments, five towers of light emerged under the organic-looking ships known as a Warp Prisms. Six more lights, though smaller than the first ones, began to materialize behind the Zealots that Artanis had presently commanded. Their golden armor kept them well hidden among the autumn-colored foliage the region had been littered with.

Before long, the energy had stabilized itself and six mechanical giants - known as Colossi - emerged from the beams of light. The smaller lights took the shape of Protoss warriors though, Artanis knew, they hadn't completely healed their wounds yet. His faith in them, however, remained firm despite that fact. His Khalai were more than capable of providing the support that the Colossi would need for the approaching conflict.

As the lights flickered in and out in the distance, an old man watched the scene in complete awe. He looked to the dancing lights within the city, wide-eyed, as the five golden giants reached their long legs over a few of the smaller buildings with relative ease.

"What manner of sorcery is this?" Abercrombie asked, though he didn't expect an answer. The arrival of these creatures astounded him. They were unlike anything he had ever witnessed before.

The massive metal creatures intimidated the old man. His mindless minions were lucky enough to be unable to comprehend exactly what was taking place. Unfortunately for Abercrombie, he was still very much alive and fully able to grasp the concept of what fear was.

Getting his wits back, he surveyed his surroundings. He was quickly running out of reinforcements and wondered if his master would arrive in time. They needed the power contained within the waters of the Sunwell to continue their experiments.

"Let her rip, my love!" he screamed to the gargantuan abomination. He patted the grotesque thing's shoulder - the one he sat upon - and it moved the respective arm accordingly. The creature reached for its other arm and pulled some sort of chain and the saw that had been mounted to that arm rang to life. Its fuel-powered engine echoed throughout the landscape as its gears surged with power.

"Do not fear them! We greatly outnumber them and we only need one left alive for questioning!" Abercrombie shouted to his minions, which included Stitches among those ranks.

On that order, the massive army of undead began to charge into the city of Silvermoon. Hundreds of ghastly creatures rallied behind Abercrombie and his monstrous creation.

Ghouls and Gargoyles both flooded the land and the sky above them then. Several lesser Abominations - not of the same craftsmanship that Stitches was - charged to their side. Several meat wagon's, similar to the ones Sylvanas herself commanded, rolled at their sides and even a couple other stone creatures that were known as Obsidian Destroyers.

They looked mostly like some kind of winged panther from the neck down though, from there on they had the upper torso of a man. The head still retained feline features but their entire form was composed of the dark mineral known as obsidian.

Fear was for the living, and though these constructs were neither dead nor alive, they were most certainly not of the latter. Most notably, the animated beings fed on mana - the magical essence that permeating from within the Sunwell - and not even the mighty dragons were able to withstand their onslaught a thousand years earlier, or so the stories had went.

The metallic creatures came on anyway, as twin yellow beams of energy shot out of machines and swept across the landscaoe. The attack cut through Abercrombie's ranks easily enough, as its heat incinerated everything it touched. Two Obsidian Destroyer's were destroyed in the process, as well as some of the other minions.

Those who had been lucky enough to survive the attack were bombarded by arrows. Some were bathed in a white light while others had a glow that was as black as night. Most of the Gargoyle's that occupied the metallic birds attention were injured in the attack, by either type of arrow.

The remaining ones landed into any enemy that stood within four hundred meters of where the archers were positioned. The respective Forsaken and Blood Elf rangers that shot at them were too well hidden to be seen.

Even still, some of Abercrombie's minions managed to push through. Though more were slain by the Blood Knights who took up the front line alongside Lor'themar Theron, Abercrombie's horde of undead was simply too much. Ghouls, and Geists, Gargoyles and Destroyers, not to mention a cadre of other vile things. The Elven blades, however, were nothing in comparison to the gigantic, four-legged, metallic constructs that they were now somehow in control of, but even still some of the smaller undead had managed to rush under them regardless.

The old man quickly realized that he would need to destroy the strangers relatively quickly if he hoped to win that day. If he failed, they would continue to rip through the remainder of his army with relative ease.

As field commander, Artanis watched how the battle proceeded. He piloted a Scout several hundred meters above the city that their Observers had learned was called Silvermoon.

If this were a battle against the Zerg, the tactic would have likely failed almost immediately. They simply wouldn't have had the numbers to hold a line for long.

It astounded Artanis how similar some of these creatures truly were to the Zerg. This plague of undeath had adapted itself to infect nearly every species on the face of that world. As such, they had a remarkable understanding of different cultures and somehow they could counter several of his warrior's attacks.

The Khalai in particular had a hard time channeling any sort of lightning bolt against the Obsidian Destroyer's. The stone creatures would bat their wings and somehow redirect the lightning elsewhere. Even his five mighty Colossi couldn't seem to take the other feline creatures down, as they had somehow learned to deflect the energy beams that the mechanical construct shot at them.

Artanis had heard that the Xel'Naga had fathered other races amongst the cosmos and wondered if they hadn't gifted them with some sort of 'Purity' like they had with the Zerg and themselves. Looking at the battle thus far though, the creatures were no more than flesh and bone as their weapons tore through them with relative ease.

A smarter creature would have recognized a lost cause when they saw it, but these undead continued to come for them without even the slightest hesitation. It mattered little, however, as the Colossi burned up the smaller rotting things as well as the ones he had heard called Abominations to ashes with their energy beams.

Several of the remaining gray bat-like creatures came down upon the Colossi then. They spat some sort of green goo at them, though it didn't seem to do much to penetrate their plasma shields. One of the mechanically-bound Protoss batted a few of them away with one of it's long legs.

Abercrombie watched in horror after witnessing just how powerful these gigantic machines were. Even against his massive army of undead, the golden tetrapods that guarded the Elves fended them off as if they were mere cannon fodder. The thought made him think of how displeased his master would be if he botched this all up.

And he couldn't afford to do that.

Continuing to watch the disaster, a thought came into his insane mind as he studied their unusual glowing armor.

"These creatures that have allied themselves with the Elves and the Forsaken," he let the rest of the sentence hang in the air as he thought it all over. "They must have been developing new weapons they didn't want anyone to know about. Just what have they been up to on the Isle of Quel'danas? I wonder."

The old man scratched his bald spot as he he thought aloud.

"I want a small fraction of you to stay put, and keep their attention on you. The rest of us will march to Quel'danas and claim the power of the Sunwell for ourselves," he said matter-of-factly.

"But sir," one of his greater minions asked aloud. "Even with the Death Knights, what would that serve to accomplish? The Sunwell radiates the essence of the Holy Light now. Will it not destroy us just by being near to it?"

"It is not the Sunwell, itself, that we are after. I simply want to weaken them so that the master can claim what he seeks. Once we've prevented them from tapping into the Sunwell, they'll be powerless to stop us!"

"I am worried that if we are discovered, Sylvanas will have our heads," the Forsaken minion admitted to Abercrombie.

"You should be," the old man snickered.

"We didn't expect her to interfere with our plans," the sentient undead minion explained.

"Take that as a reminder to cover your tracks then," the old man snapped back. "Unless she see's you outright, she will be none-the-wiser. Now march!" he shouted and his undead minions did as they were told. About a fourth of them stayed while the rest quickly retreated to the western part of Silvermoon - where the Lich King once made his way straight for the Sunwell - the Dead Scar.

Though the power within its fount had been restored, the devastation wrought as he made his way to the island that contained the power of the High Elves had not yet been healed. They would call themselves Blood Elves in memory of that day, when the Sunwell was tainted by the corpse of Kel'thuzad and they lost the power that they drew from it.

They were led by Prince Kael'thas Sunstrider, for a time, until he was driven mad from the amount of nether he had been exposed to in Outland. Abercrombie knew the Blood Elves current leader very well, actually.

Or he did at a time, rather. Both he and Lor'themar had changed much since his younger days of study in the Eversong Woods but ever since his wife Eliza had died, he didn't get out of Duskwood too much.

He wondered if he would be forced to do battle with him before the end of the day, as he made his way north up the Dead Scar.

* * *

A Short Time Later

"Hierarch, shall we pursue?"

"Yes," answered Artanis. "Our Colossi, however, will be unable to travel beyond the blighted path that leads through the city. They will not be able to fight on the island itself, without damaging the surrounding environment and I would like to avoid that as much as possible."

"Why are they moving north though?" one of the other pilots asked him. "What's on that island?"

"If they are heading for what I believe they are, it would likely serve to create more unnecessary destruction for these Elves within their city. We need something smaller but still sufficient enough to deal with them," Artanis informed his squadron. The message was also relayed to several technicians aboard the Spear of Adun.

He could sense his warriors approval of the plan. What he had intended to do was to reconstruct a weapon that had been out of service since the first Great War against the Zerg. These mechanized slug-like tanks known as Reavers were essentially miniature and mobile factories. Predominantly used in the production of smart-bombs that were designed to locate and destroy small pockets of enemies, their support could prove absolutely vital if fighting were to take place within the city that surrounded the Sunwell. The Protoss needed the most precise defense they could come up with that could combat the undead threat while reducing the collateral damage as much as possible.

"How long will it take for the Reavers to arrive?" Artanis asked the technicians aboard the Spear of Adun.

"It will take some time, Hierarch. Schematics have already been uploaded into the Robotics Bay but, with our current resources, we can only spare enough to make a few. They should be ready within the hour," he reported.

"Very well," he said. "What is the status of the enemy?"

"Our Observers have spotted them. They have a considerable lead over us. They have almost reached the coastline in the north and the the Colossi cannot go no further, though the Khalai and a few Stalkers continue to pursue them," one of the warriors that had been pursuing them chimed into the psionic conversation.

"If we take the Warp Prism, we can be on the island within minutes. However, it could prove to be a difficult battle if we cannot get those Reavers operational and on the island soon," another offered his input. "Difficult for the islands inhabitants, at least."

"We must do what we can," said the Hierarch. "But _do not_ take any unnecessary risks if it can be helped!"

An idea seemed to come upon the Protoss leader then as he watched the mechanical squid-like craft fly around the golden bird that he piloted.

"Download cargo now," he communicated to the pilot of the Warp Prism to his left. He had been so caught up in the battle that he had nearly forgotten about the warriors he had saved from certain death earlier in the fight.

The ships pilot obeyed and, after a brief clash of light, the beings aboard the Warp Prism rematerialized on the earth beneath them. Most of them just laid there unconscious though a few were lucid enough.

After they had been recalled, those that remained conscious were completely baffled at what had just happened to them. One second they were fighting a losing battle and had been captured before being lifted into the air by some sort of blue energy sphere. The next second, they stood in the middle of the Dead Scar as if nothing had just happened. It was an odd thing to feel more calm in the Dear Scar than in Silvermoon itself.

The Banshee Queen had been crushed under the massive weight of the creatures known as Stitches. Her chest felt as if it's foot were still pressing down on her. She was still very much in pain and, though her unliving flesh didn't appear to have suffered too much damage, she had quite a bit of difficulty walking on her own.

Sylvanas, especially, was a bit shaken by what had occurred but she quickly steeled her nerves. The few Blood Knights and Dark Rangers who had awakened by then ran to her side, awaiting orders when they realized that they were unarmed. She looked up to find that they were completely surrounded by demons.

She instinctively grabbed at her weapon only to realize that she, as well, had none. Whether she lost it in battle or if she had been disarmed, she could not say but she quickly realized that that line of thought wouldn't do her too much good then.

"Please, do not be alarmed," the creature in front of her said as it manifested in a similar flash of light to the one that she had, moments ago.

"We are here to aid your people," he said to the undead woman telepathically. He could tell that she was their leader simply from the body language the others displayed when they had fought alongside her.

She looked back to another ally of hers as she heard a rustling noise behind her that caught her attention.

"Lor'themar! I thought you..." The rest of what she had wanted to say was interrupted by the pain of her own injuries. She believed he had fallen in the battle outside of Silvermoon and, though they weren't exactly friends by any means, they had fought many battles alongside one another throughout the course of their long Elven lives.

She lost all composure as she ran to his side, or tried to. Her injuries wouldn't allow her to do much more than hobble.

It wasn't that she loved him in any way but she rushed to him nonetheless, out of concern for a long-time ally. An alliance that had somehow transcended her own death.

Sylvanas had good reason to worry though, and not just for Lor'themar. Their was an army of death marching on her homeland that she had failed to warn them about in time. The idea alone frightened her.

It reminded her all-too-well of the last major battle that had taken place here that had ended her own life, though she preferred to look at that moment as more of a rebirth than anything. Though the Battle of Quel'thalas had brought her to her knees, she had been more than revitalized by the time she had returned that day.

She had a Kingdom of her own. A cadre of lost souls determined to carve out a niche for themselves in this constantly warring world.

These mysterious beings didn't sit right with her and she was then completely disarmed mentally, as well as in the literal sense. Even her own Dark Rangers who always watched her back were either unconscious or disarmed of their own weapons and, as such, would do little to help their escape. She saw no way out.

She was surrounded by the group of beings that she had never seen before. Their voices seemed to echo inside of her head rather than by coming through their mouths and it was a bit unsettling to her. It was how she remembered the Lich King speaking to her. Except these creatures claimed to want to help.

" _Calm down_ ," she thought to herself. Being rational about it all, the strangers did save her life and that of the Blood Elves and her Forsaken.

Sylvanas looked to the battlefield, seeing hundreds of Abercrombie's Scourge. She couldn't help but appreciate the phenomenal military abilities they had at their disposal. Regardless, if that damned old man was headed for the Sunwell like she believed then they were in for some serious trouble.

Lor'themar health had seemed to improve a bit, and he slowly rose to his feet. He seemed to be fairing better than her, at least, and he slowly approached his former Ranger-General then.

"Why should we trust you?" Sylvanas asked as she tried to remain level-headed. It was a lot to take in.

Artanis approached the Dark Lady.

"You must take our word for it," he said. "For now, we are not properly prepared to do battle within the urban areas of your city. We need your assistance to rally your forces against them until we are ready to send our units in. Do you understand?"

"I was once a Farstrider. I swore an oath to defend Silvermoon and its people till my dying breath. It was not enough," she said to him then. Almost as if she couldn't hold back the rest of what she had to say.

"My homeland still burned but those days are passed," she said, her voice seeming to gain strength.

"And history will not repeat itself! I am Sylvanas Windrunner, Queen of the Forsaken and if you will not serve me in this life, then you will do so in the next!" she screamed at the strangers.

"You are in no position to bargain, by any means," Artanis said matter-of-factly. "Though I am simply asking for your assistance to help you prevent this from happening again."

It looked as if Lor'themar was still trying to wrap his mind around everything that had just happened, as it was so sudden. Still, they needed to prioritize quickly. Their homeland was in danger.

With these strangers offering help, who were they to turn them down? Sylvanas looked to Lor'themar who nodded his approval. She thought for a moment longer.

"I understand."

"Very well," the being nodded. "We will take care of your wounded first." He paused for a moment and turned back to the injured Elves.

"Artanis to the Spear of Adun," he said, though he had no mouth that Sylvanas could see. Others of the same race pinned small disks onto the critically injured Blood Elves. He pressed a button on each of the disks as he pinned them to the injured warriors and a small red light began to flash on each of them.

"Mass recall these survivors," Artanis said to the technicians aboard the Spear of Adun. "They are in critical condition and require medical assistance," he explained, but to whom neither Sylvanas nor Lor'themar could see.

"Understood," the technician answered, though none of the Blood Elves or Forsaken knew where the voice came from. If Slyvanas had to guess, she believed it to be coming from the downed ship she had witnessed earlier. _The Spear of Adun_ they had apparently called it.

Instantly, the injured Elves began to evaporate into energy. They left ghostly images of themselves before disappearing altogether.

Sylvanas and Lor'themar watched in shock and awe. They had never been witness to teleportation magic as magnificent as that before. They would have remained there, dumbfounded, until the giant crystalline machine that saved them began to hover over them again.

"We must hurry," the stranger known as Artanis said, as he looked back towards the Dead Scar that they had just chased Abercrombie and Stitches through.

They were nowhere to be seen now and Sylvanas believed that they had somehow swam to the island in the meantime. She knew all too well, that one of the greatest benefits of her undeath - other than requiring no sleep - was the simple fact that they no longer needed to draw breath.

"There is no time to spare!" Artanis cried out. On cue, the golden squid-like Warp Prism began to gather energy from all around it. Blue spheres of energy coalesced around the Protoss, Blood Elf and Forsaken warriors that had convened below.

Moments later, Artanis himself was transported into his golden bird-like craft known as a Scout. He flew alongside the Warp Prism, keeping watch on their precious cargo.

Despite how inferior their technology was, these natives had proven themselves rather resourceful thus far and he knew, all too well, that any knowledge of the area that they could provide would prove to be detrimental to their mission to find a way back home.

As he flew alongside the Warp Prism, he wondered how long he would be forced to stay on this world. He wondered how long he would be able to keep his existence here a secret. Truly, that was already beyond repair. They had revealed themselves more than they would have liked already, but Artanis knew that they didn't have much of a choice at the time either. Those thought would have to wait, however.

The island was fast approaching and Artanis could feel a mysterious energy emanating from the landmass itself.

He had to steel his nerves for the fight ahead.

* * *

A Short Time Later

"Keep them out! Don't let them through!" a slender, pale skinned humanoid shouted.

"Cover the southern route! We cannot let them flank us!" another said. "Get all of the citizens out of here, now!"

As the Blood Knights that guarded the Sunwell shouted out in horror, Abercrombie simply cackled in reply. He had already brought the wrath of Stitches and the rest of his Scourge minions out of the ravine and onto the mainland of Quel'danas, to the west of Dawnstar Village.

The entrance to the Sunwell Plateau wasn't far from where they were at. By then, however, rotting corpses and dozens of the obsidian creatures had laid siege to the architecture that surrounded the Sunwell itself and they had forced their way into building.

However dire the situation was, they could see the army amassing in the distance to repel them. The Shattered Sun Offensive, he had heard them called once, though it was far too late for them to mount any kind of proper defense. The enemy was already at their front door.

Additionally, Abercrombie led this charge himself - riding atop the monstrous creature known as Stitches. He swung his mechanized saw back and forth as its engines roared like some sort of goblin machine.

"The new mach-seven sawblade is impeccable, if I do say so," Abercrombie cackled as his creations sawblade dug into the shoulder of a particularly unlucky Blood Elf. Blood splattered on the battlefield which only served to invigorat his troops further.

The Ghouls went into a frenzy and, to emphasize this, began attacking the innocents of the village as well. Several Shattered Sun priests came to their aid, attempting to call upon the Light for assistance though it didn't do much good in repelling Abercrombie's undead. The Holy Light was commonly used to rebuke the undead, but their were simply too many for them to deal with.

Within minutes, the buildings surrounding the Sunwell were set ablaze and the ravenous creatures barreled into the Plateau. They were covered in rotting flesh and bones protruded from their bodies in odd ways that made them look more like animals than the men they once were.

They had broken through the first gate. Abercrombie had read that it was called Agamath in the Sin'dorei dialect of the Elven language. The event was a dreadful reminder of how, even years after the Lich King's demise, the Scourge was still a dominant power in the world.

"Do not let them through!" one of the Blood Knights that defended the Plateau called out.

"They are after the Sunwell!" yelled another, though he didn't survive much longer.

One of the hundreds of Ghouls lunged its disfigured shape at the Blood Elf and knocked him onto the ground, before he became the things meal. The Blood Knights fought valiantly but their efforts were not enough. Even the priests of the Shattered Sun had joined in the battle against the undead, by then.

Abercrombie had set his plan into motion. He needed the energy contained with the Sunwell to fuel his latest creations.

Additionally, he had heard that the Shattered Sun had built a vault deep beneath the Sunwell, itself. There they kept archaic scrolls, some of which had withered with age and were barely legible. The majority of them, however, held vast amounts of knowledge about the arcane.

He would have no problem getting into the vault, but his undead minions would be consumed by the holy radiance of the Sunwell itself. He had no idea how he would go about actually getting close enough to the Well to acquire that power, but he would figure that part out when they arrived.

His master had heard stories of a massive mining operation, deep beneath the Sunwell that contained gems of unbelievable power and the old man would stop at nothing to please him. He saw no harm in furthering his own goals along the way and, truthfully, he hoped that together they could build a new vessel for Eliza's lost soul.

Her soul was bound to the construct known as Stitches, though it didn't reflect one bit of her true personality. That thought had driven him mad and, since her death, he had been hell-bent on bringing his love back from the grave.

"Stitches hungry..." the creature gargled. Despite the fact that it carried the soul of his dead wife, the construct sounded more masculine than he would have hoped.

Stitches revved the engine of it's fuel-powered saw, almost as if it understood the train of thought that took place in the old man's mind. Abercrombie took it as a sign and commanded his minions to push forward.

Gargoyles and several other kinds of spirits dotted the sky then, giving the Isle of Quel'danas the look of nightfall though it was actually midday. They screeched and wailed and stormed their way towards the second gate.

Out of the corner of his aged eyes, however, he noticed a squid-like thing floating in the distance of the horizon, its incorporeal wings fluttering as it waited there, otherwise motionless. After a brief moment, Abercrombie noticed a white flash of light come out from beneath the thing and it washed over the ground below. The beam materialized several beings on the dead land at the foot of the Plateau, just below where the strange-looking thing hovered. He recognized the beings as the ones who had gotten in his way of investigating the area just north of the Western Plaguelands.

"Hmph... Them again..." he said aloud, as several insidious plots toiled around in his still-living brain. He would not let them foil his research.

* * *

The golden squid-like vessel known as a Warp Prism descended upon the desecrated land at the southern tip of the island. The black earth seemed to cry out for nutrients and the burnt-looking trees appeared to be reaching for the still-living ones that lined the pathway know as the Dead Scar.

A bright beam of light shot towards the earth and, as the ship was roughly one hundred feet off of the ground, several shapes emerged from the luminescence. There were several different sizes of figures that were deposited from this particular vessel.

Dozens of High Templar ran to fortify the second gate that blocked the pathway to the Sunwell. The Plateau had its own cadre of Blood Knights that were assigned with the specific mission of guarding the mystical fount, though their numbers were greatly reinforced by Silvermoon's own warriors.

There were five large golden constructs that had been summoned from the Warp Prism. These Stalkers were taller than most other things on the island, matching the height of the Blood Elves own mechanical contraptions. They looked like large crimson colored humanoid machines though Artanis' Scout couldn't properly read the things energy readings.

Two Scout-class ships guarded the Warp Prism as it unloaded its occupants and another, piloted by Artanis himself, began to hail everyone on the battlefield to his call. The golden bird-like ships pivoted around the Warp Prism, keeping look out for any incoming threats as its passengers were let off below.

"We need to halt their advances long enough to let our men get a foothold!" shouted Artanis, as he fired several anti-matter rounds into a few oncoming Gargoyles that seemed dead-set on preventing them from landing their warriors.

"We need to give the Stalkers a moment to bring their systems back online after transport," he finished.

"En taro Tassadar," the pilot of the other Scout called out. Immediately, he broke off from the transport vehicle and offered the Stalkers beneath them some cover fire. Hopefully, the pilot could keep them off of the machines while they rebooted. The Blood Elven machines would definitely help in that regard.

"We need to get them near the mystical pool called the Sunwell. According to our Observers and from what we have gathered from the locals, its enchanted waters contain a power beyond reckoning. As primitive as this world appears," he paused, as Sylvanas shot him an angry look. "There are many things here that could help us in our endeavor."

"We are all fighting for the same thing, it would seem," the other pilot said to Artanis.

"What do you mean?" the Hierarch asked, surprised by his words.

"These Blood Elves defend those waters up until their last breath so it is certainly of some importance to them," he explained. "And from up here, it seems that these undead creatures are pushing towards the Sunwell too. Why, I have no clue.

"True. They have used the waters within the Sunwell for thousands of years," Sylvanas intervened. "And the Scourge fought..." she paused for a moment, as if hurt by the words. "A war here before. They destroyed the Sunwell before."

"Thousands of years?" Artanis asked. He was dumbfounded by those words. This species had lived here for thousands of years and hadn't developed beyond the society they they had. Sure enough they had machines, but they were nothing in comparison to the technologies that the Terrans had discovered in the same span of time.

"The Sunwell is fueled by the same mysterious energy empowers the Maelstrom, though recently it was purified by the Holy Light of the Naaru," Sylvanas joined in on their psionic banter. They were surprised to hear her thoughts so easily and, Artanis at least, wondered if she had communicated with someone like this before. He watched her let loose several arrows that flew towards the rotting Ghouls that scurried over the Blood Elven architecture.

"Maelstrom... Naaru? These words mean nothing to me, but it is obvious that we have a common goal nonetheless. We truly don't know what we're looking for either," the pilot explained. "Our Observers had detected a massive build up of energy in this region just prior to us... coming to this region," Artanis chose his words carefully.

"If by that you mean crashing into the mountainside," she didn't finish her comment but she didn't need to. Artanis realized then that she had already known of their plight before they had even encountered her. She was proving to be more resourceful than even he could have imagined.

"Regardless, the energy signature is gone now," another Scout pilot added to the conversation. He shot his anti-matter cannons at two Gargoyle's closing in on his Hierarch. "I've been following the reports closely and it seems to come in and out at random intervals."

"I've read them," the Artanis admitted. He nonchalantly fired his anti-matter cannons in small bursts at the skittering undead that made their way towards the five great Stalkers that were rebooting.

Close to two dozen Zealots manifested from the lights that came from the Warp Prism and the ship instantly took off into the clouds once they had been dropped off. The Zealot's lined up in front of the machines and phased their energy blades into existence. It had all happened so quickly.

"That's what we're investigating. It could be some sort of temporal anomaly," Artanis noted. "I pray we could use it as a way home."

That last line threw Sylvanas off guard and she nearly missed her shot as a result. _Where were these outsiders from, exactly?_ She had to learn more.

The Zealots rushed at the horde of undead and, though they were greatly outnumbered, they had been much healthier since they had gotten a few days rest in the Spear's Healing Pods. Now they knew their enemy, at least some of them did, and they sliced into them in the same manner that one would prepare a meal.

Nothing really presented them with much of a problem until the Abominations came upon them. There were dozens of them, and some we much larger than others. The largest one, discovered by an Observer to be known as Stitches, was also among them.

"The same thing we are all counting on, I believe," the pilot said.

"Save the talk for later, brother. Focus on the Abominations!" the Hierarch said urgently as he noticed their arrival. "Let's end this and get out of here before we draw any more attention than we already have!"

"Understood," he said.

"En taro Tassadar" the new arrivals responded, as several Zealots and High Templar ran towards the massive golden machines that were still in the process of booting up.

The Blood Knights of Silvermoon stood at their side. Their crimson plate armor glistened off of the sun's light and they drew their swords high with fervor.

"Glory to the Sin'dorei!" the Elves shouted together, as they ran towards the priests of the Shattered Sun. Artanis watched the event happen from aboard his Scout and the sight was magnificent.


	6. Siege of the Sunwell

**Chapter 6: Siege of the Sunwell**

Location: Isle of Quel'danas, north of Silvermoon  
XX:XX - Shipboard Time UNKNOWN  
52:34 - Hours After Impact  
Data download: ERROR  
System recalibrating...

The myriad of people guarding over the isle of Quel'danas that day got to work. Sylvanas Windrunner worked alongside Artanis developing a course of action. The plan was simple.

The Protoss' Stalkers and Dark Templar would 'blink' to strategic positions throughout the battlefield, offering stealth and support-fire, as the Zealots and Blood Knights did most of the ground work. The High Templar would fight beside them, and the priests of the Shattered Sun could be rallied to fight at their side.

The Shattered Sun, it seemed to Artanis at least, was a coalition of these Elves and another race entirely. Draenei, he had heard them called. They seemed somewhat familiar to him, though he could not recall how.

The Narezim blinked in and out of the battlefield, carrying some of the cities civilians to safety. However, Artanis' fears came to the forefront when he had to accept that their were too many of the creatures to fight them within the city limits. Too many twists and turns and their hit-and-run style tactics were perfect within the confines of the Sunwell Plateau. Regardless of how superior their technology was, they simply didn't have the manpower to control the fight, at least until they could warp the Reavers in.

The buildings around them burned and the scent of rotting eggs wafted from them for some reason or another. As more civilians than they could handle burst forth from the inner gates, the mechanical spider-like Stalkers couldn't fire their carapace-mounted particle disrupters without potentially harming them. Their attention was unfortunately divided within the city between dealing with keeping the civilians safe and fighting off the multitude of monstrosities.

* * *

Sylvanas and Lor'themar, and some of their respective followers, watched in wonder after witnessing the power of the incredible weapons that these strangers had. They didn't stare long, however, as they had more urgent matters that needed tending to.

Sylvanas nodded to the strangers, as she realized that they were true to their word. She also realized that she didn't have much time and needed to quickly scrounge up whatever capable fighters that were still left on the island city while fending off the Scourge.

The two had known each other for some time and had bumped heads many times throughout those years. Initially, Sylvanas had eased the Blood Elves induction into the Horde though she had eventually used it as leverage against Lor'themar when she needed troops for her Northrend expedition. They were still recovering from the events that had ended with the renewal of the Sunwell at the time and she had effectively blackmailed him into aiding her.

The times had changed though, and, despite still not having been formerly crowned, the Regent-Lord Lor'themar Theron had grown into a fine leader. He too had had to make tough decisions for the betterment of his people and he now understood the bluntness that Sylvanas had shown him then.

"Lor'themar, I need you to rally the rest of the locals so long as their still able-bodied," Sylvanas ordered. She knew he was not well, but didn't think that the job was too difficult, all things considered.

"Very well," he answered her and immediately ran off. All else considered, the Regent-Lord respected her military prowess. He seemed displeased by the thought of taking orders from her but she knew, that much like the last time they had met like this, he wasn't in much of a bargaining position. Neither was she for that matter.

Regardless, now that that was dealt with Sylvanas needed to get things rolling in the right direction. She spotted a few of her Dark Rangers and shouted to them.

"How many of you are left?"

"Milady!" she answered back, giving a quick bow. "We thought we had been defeated! How were we..."

"Never mind that now!" she interjected sharply. "How many of us can still fight?"

"Only a handful of the Elves who swore fealty to the Shattered Sun Offensive remain. The Draenei's numbers are greatly thinned as well. Most of the strangers machinery still stands strong," the Dark Ranger explained to the Banshee Queen.

Sure they were strong but Sylvanas couldn't help but to have mixed feelings about that sovereignty.

"Where did you find these outsiders, milady?"

"That is not of importance right now," Sylvanas snapped back. "Get as many of our people to safety as is possible. We have to push beyond the second gate! Get some archers up on that wall now!"

The Dark Ranger disappeared instantly, likely gathering the rest of her brothers and sisters. Sylvanas quickly scanned the rest of the battlefield.

Rohendor was the name given to the second of the three gates that barred entry into the Sunwell.

Sylvanas entered into the building before her. It had been covered by a thin red tapestry that was somewhat translucent and went down a set of stairs that led into an open room. There was a large rune in the center of the floor that permeated a magnificent glow. It seemed to ring in her head and it pained her to get close to it.

Notably, the seal hadn't been broken and yet somehow the Scourge had been able to penetrate its barrier. Sylvanas was baffled by the fact. Nothing should have been able to get through if the barrier was still up. Not even the best mages in the Kirin Tor could have gotten through without disabling the rune.

The humanoid machines of the Shattered Sun Offensive guarded the rune with every bit of energy they could muster. They grappled with the Abominations that came upon them then though they managed to hold them back long enough for Sylvanas to inspect the barrier.

It appeared weaker in several areas and Sylvanas watched as several Gargoyles poured through in droves. After inspecting it for a moment, she noticed that the rounds fired by the things Artanis had called Stalkers seemed to be weakening the magic that guarded the Sunwell as the machine's stray shots were absorbed by it.

"Artanis! Cease your fire immediately!" the Queen of the Forsaken telepathically communicated to the stranger piloting the golden, mechanical bird.

* * *

"These fool's are doing our job for us!" Abercrombie snickered.

He reached into the pocket of his gray robes and clutched his fingers around something small and crystalline. He caressed it's fine edges and the act seemed to calm him a bit.

"Focus on the weak points. Keep their attention off of the gate itself. If we can buy some time we might be able to disarm the rune protecting Rohendor," Abercrombie told his minions.

Almost immediately, at least a dozen Gargoyles focused their attention on the magical shield that surrounded the second gate. The green goo that they spat splattered onto the view-port of one of the golden bird-like machines and it made it very difficult for him to continue his pursuit.

When the pilot had thought he had made it into the clear, two pitch black, feline-looking constructs approached the crafts rear. The creatures reached their stone encrusted fingers out towards the machine as an ominous violet energy began to draw forth from the pilot and was pulled into the creatures palms as if it were a vortex.

Abercrombie knew the creatures were feeding off of the pilots energy. Abercrombie could feel the life-force that his Obsidian Destroyers had sucked from the vessel though, in truth, he had never felt anything like it before.

Obsidian Destroyers were known for drawing out the magical energies latent in all living things and, despite the fact that Abercrombie had not witnessed the strangers use any form of magic at all, he couldn't help but feel that their was something greater to these newcomers than their understanding would allow.

The four-legged constructs flapped their ebon wings and despite being made entirely of the mineral known as obsidian they had no trouble keeping them aloft. They were entirely focused on the pilot within the vessel that they approached, not even looking away as Stitches made it's way towards Rohendor.

The violet energy swirled into the palm of the Obsidian Destroyer's hands. The energy whirled in on itself and each hand pulled a vortex of arcana along with it.

The mechanical bird began to spin the moment that it's jets no longer seemed able to keep them aloft. Whatever the four-legged humanoids were feeding off of, Abercrombie knew it couldn't be magic but his creatures feasted nonetheless.

"Stitches, keep them away from the gate!" he shouted to his former lover. He jumped off of the Abomination's shoulder then and immediately ran towards the gateway known as Rohendor.

A shadowy figure in the distance began to fire arrow after arrow, in rapid succession. The arrows came bolting in at lightning-fast speed. A few landed in the dirt but most of them hit the enormous Stitches in various parts of his body.

One arrow stuck out of the creatures face-mask at an awkward angle and three more were partially embedded into it's gut. Stitches gargled out a roar in opposition.

"Stitches hungers!"

The figure let loose a few more arrows and, before the construct could even react, three glowing figures flew towards the Abercrombie's favored Abomination.

It sounded like screams of magnificent pain came from whatever it was but it didn't take long for Abercrombie to realize what exactly was causeing such a noise. It was familiar enough.

The three incorporeal blue, beings known as Banshee's crashed into Stitches chest and the attack almost toppled the thing over, despite their ghastly form.

Stitches managed to catch himself with one hand. Immediately after the creature had been able to support its own weight, he spun the pickaxe around. It had been tied around the wrist of that arm and he spun it like it were a lasso. The enchanted pickaxe that had been tied to that hand was flung toward the shadowy figure.

The rope stretched into the shadows of the stairwell - where the dark figure had been shooting from. Stitches smirked when he heard the grunt that signified that his attack had struck its intended target.

The gargantuan Abomination pulled its left arm back and, as the rope tightened, the pickax pulled the figure back with it.

Abercrombie could see her as plain as day then, though she was likely too focused on the massive flash-sewn creature barreling down on her then. He had managed to attract the attention of Sylvanas Windrunner herself.

Despite the Forsaken and the Blood Elves both being members of the Horde, Abercrombie knew all too well how strenuous those ties could be.

The engine on Stitches saw-blade roared to life as the rope pulled Sylvanas closer to it. It swung its arm forward as she neared the Abomination and the look on her face pleased the fleshy construct.

At the last second, one of the strangers joined in the fury. The being wore a golden armor and he brought his blades, formed of energy, out of their sheaths located somewhere on his gauntlets. He bolted for Sylvanas and brought the blade down to block the chainsaw just in time.

Blocked, Abercrombie noted, and not vaporized like all else that the strangers blades had touched. He played with the gem inside of his pocket once more and it glowed slightly before he faded off into the shadows.

* * *

Sylvanas knocked another arrow and let the thing loose while still being held by the pickaxe in the enormous Abominations left hand. Briefly distracted by the Zealot that had supported the Banshee Queen, the arrow jutted itself into one of Stitches' eyes. The projectile exploded on impact, a dark aura bursting forth from the wound it had opened. The creature shrieked in retaliation.

Sylvanas had managed to pull herself free from the creatures clutches before it could regain its composure. The strange warrior who battled alongside her fought with such fury that it wasn't very difficult to find the chance to break away.

She quickly sprinted to the top of the stairs, where she found herself a nice vantage point. Her back was unprotected but she ordered several of the Shattered Sun priests to cover her rear as her attention was focused on the battle with Stitches.

"Blood Knights, to my side!" the Queen of the Forsaken said when three more locals joined the fray.

"Milady, where is Lor'themar?" one of the Blood Knights asked.

"He is helping the civilians. There's no time to explain. Head down there and help the stranger. It is the only thing standing between the Scourge and Rohendor." Everyone present, except maybe the strangers, understood that that meant the second gate that was guarding the Sunwell. They also knew how dire the situation was quickly becoming.

"I understand. At once, milady," their leader said simply, as all three rushed down to join the armored stranger.

She watched as the Blood Knights surrounded the Abomination, with the Zealot taking up the front. The stranger's weapon was much better suited for defending against the terrifying machine that was attached to Stitches right arm.

The creature brought the chainsaw down towards the head of the Zealot and it's engine roared as it did so. The Zealot brought both of her psi blades out and crossed them in an x formation, hoping to block the attack. It was quickly parried away and the three Blood Knights tried to take advantage of that fact.

They came in at all sides. Their broadswords stabbed at the sides of the creatures belly, as well as it's back, though the creature turned and used the flat side of his pickaxe to bat the Blood Elf off to the side. He was sent flying into the staircase near where Sylvanas had positioned herself.

She let off three more arrows with the quickness. One missed and another landed in its shoulder. A green fluid erupted from the wound and seemed to scorch the land as it splattered over the ground around them. Whatever it was, it was much more volatile than the liquid that erupted from the usual Abomination.

The Zealot barely managed to get out of the goo's way in time. The Zealot - who had to be female Sylvanas thought to herself - was an inspiring sight to behold.

Despite every counter measure that Stitches had attempted to use, she had managed to evade nearly each attack thus far. The golden armored warrior left afterimages in her wake as she jumped out of the smoldering liquid's path.

Another Blood Knight was swatted off to the side. He crashed into the wall of the room with such force, he would likely never walk again. Sylvanas had seen enough.

She called out to her minions through their psychic connection. The Zealot, at least, seemed as if she too understood what Sylvanas had intended to do. She figured the being had tapped into her psychic communication.

She let three banshees loose upon Stitches. The blue, screaming figures danced around the meticulously crafted Abomination. They clawed at the creature with ruthlessness, and despite their ethereal forms they gave very real injuries to the lumbering construct.

The Zealot came back in then. The remaining Blood Knight flanked the gargantuan creature at its back. The strangers psi blades parried the chainsaw again and again as the Blood Knight continued to stab at the creatures rear simultaneously.

Three more arrows consumed in darkness were let loose from Sylvanas' bow. Two smacked the creature in the head and despite everything else happening then, the humongous construct of sewn-together flesh turned to look Sylvanas directly in her eyes and she charged at the beast almost immediately.

"Now!" she told her followers psychically.

A dozen or so ghouls burst forth from the soil, surrounding Stitches. They lunged for him instantly and raked at his hanging flesh. The banshees continued their scratching as well and had begun swirling around the giant Abominations head.

The Zealot jumped as high as she could. Her bionic thrusters that had been forged into her back pushed her higher than she should have been able to jump on her own and she drove one of her energy blades right through the creatures throat.

Sylvanas wasn't sure if the attack actually killed the creature but the instantly cauterized wound made it shriek in agony. It swung it's pickaxe-arm in retaliation and ended up smacking itself in the face.

The enormous creature fell to the ground and the earth shook in response. It's eyes closed and it ceased all movement. It's motionlessness informed her that the battle was over.

It wasn't until things had calmed for a second that she began to wonder where Abercrombie had went during the course of the battle.

A strange hum drew her attention elsewhere.

No sooner than those thoughts popped into her head, the white light emanating from the rune in the center of the room began to flicker and, within seconds, fade entirely.

The magical barrier that barred the majority of the Scourge forces entry into the Sunwell began to flicker in tandem.

Rohendor had been brought down entirely.

"This is bad," the Banshee Queen thought to herself.

* * *

Abercrombie watched the events transpire from afar. He was riding atop one of the stone Gargoyles then and the thought of the magical barrier failing brought joy to him. If he could manage to get his hands on a bit of the mystical waters of the Sunwell, he would likely be able to use it to perfect his experiment known as Stitches.

Abercrombie held the small red jewel in his hand. His right arm was held out towards the battle taking place below him and the jewel that was balled into his fist let off a vibrant crimson glow.

The lifeless creature flapped its wings of granite and shrieked in response to the gems energy. Abercrombie let out a slight chuckle.

"Rohendor is crumbling," he said psychically to his minions. "There is one more gate to go. Everyone, move into the Shrine of the Eclipse immediately."

Several years ago, an ancient being known as the Naaru had been held prisoner there. The being was kept here against its will and stripped of its power by the magically addicted Blood Elves. Though the Naaru's legacy had lived on within the reinvigorated Sunwell, the Blood Knights, empowered by the Naaru, had went on the form the Shattered Sun Offensive.

Nothing was kept prisoner there that day however. The enormous sun emblem on the floor looked as if it were a rune of some sort, though Abercrombie had a plan to get around that trap as well.

He fingered the gem in his pocket once more, as he arrived at the final gate, known to the locals as Archonisus.

* * *

"Where did that trickster go?" Sylvanas questioned her followers. "Where is Abercrombie?"

"Towards the Sunwell, milady. We couldn't stop him and his constructs in time. I regret..."

"Where is Nathanos? He should be heading these attacks in my absence," the Dark Lady asked, growing tired of conversation.

"He is busy persueing the old man beyond the second gate. His Blighthounds had picked up the man's scent and he went on ahead,"

"Enough," the Banshee Queen cut her off. "I will deal with the bastard myself! Rangers, hold the line while I'm gone."

"At once, milady," one of her followers, the one she had left in charge, answered.  
"I will cover your movements from the air, milady," Artanis chimed in.

"That will not be necessary. You need to trust me. I have put my faith in you. Can you not show me the same respect?" she thought, though she knew Artanis could hear every bit of it.

* * *

Artanis hadn't fully put his trust in her, to be fair. He didn't know her well enough yet but she did know these enemies better than anyone else; that much he couldn't deny. And her tactical knowledge of the area couldn't be overlooked.

"As you wish," he replied, though he didn't like the idea of separating their forces any more than they already had.

Sylvanas was only one chess piece in the grand scheme of things, though admittedly she was a very important player. Without her aid, and that of Lor'themar as well, their chances of being able to tamper with the Sunwell's energies were slim-to-none. He would have to learn to trust her eventually, if this relationship were to aid him in the future.

Far below him, by one of the balconies of the Sunwell Plateau, Artanis spotted several children running from a bunch of the smaller decaying creatures that ran on their hands and knees - Geists, Sylvanas had called them. He almost began to fire on them but then he worried about the children getting caught in the crossfire.

Within seconds, one of his Zealots charged into the room that the balcony led into. The bionics in his legs pushed him forward and he crashed into one of the three Geists that attacked the kids. He swung back with one his psi blades drawn and took the head of another clean off.

"Go! Leave here now!" Artanis told the children telepathically. They were too frightened to respond.

Despite the fact that two still remained, the Zealots attack had distracted the remaining Geists long enough for the kids to run off. Although the Protoss had saved them, the strange beings were just as intimidating to the young ones as the undead monstrosities that ravaged the Isle of Quel'Danas. Before they could fathom what had happened another being, garbed in crimson, ran for the kids and scooped them under it's arms as it rushed past and faded into the shadows. Artanis recognized the man instantly: Lor'themar Theron, the regent-lord of the Blood Elves.

Elsewhere, a Dark Ranger and a Zealot had their backs pushed together as they were surrounded by lesser undead. The Ranger knocked an arrow and pulled the bow string so quickly that three arrows shot out when it looked as if she only had time to fire a single shot.

Three Ghouls went down instantly and several Geists jumped over their lifeless husks and barreled down on the pair of warriors. Artanis tried to offer them some support fire but he had to pull some of his shots. The Geists moved too quickly and, as they danced around the Dark Ranger and her Zealot companion, it was difficult to get a clear shot.

The Ranger had run out of ammunition but without a moment of hesitation, she dropped her longbow and drew forth a twisted blade from her side. As one Geist came upon her, she slashed the blade clean across his face.

"If I were not already dead, I would think it a good day to die," the Dark Ranger exclaimed as she re-positioned her stance.

"I am baffled by the way your kind thinks. Regardless, we will fight to the end," the Zealot explained to him psionically, though Artanis could hear him as well.

Instinctively, the Zealot broke formation and called forth his psi blades. His bionic implants pushed him forward with haste. He only needed to get clear of the two remaining Geists long enough for Artanis to take note. Within seconds, the Geists were filled with cauterized holes from the Hierarch's anti-matter cannons.

They were joined by several members of the Shattered Sun then. A few priests and paladins of varying statures ran to their side, healing what wounds they had endured in the scuffle.

Despite the chaos around them, the scene was beautiful. The primitive inhabitants of this world had proved to be very resourceful indeed. This Holy Light was unlike anything Artanis had ever seen. Sure, his people had their own technology that had proven pretty effective at healing their injured warriors but it was nothing compared to the power that these priests were able to tap into.

The results were instantaneous. Everything from the most minor scratch to the most grievous wound was healed within moments. Artanis could most certainly use this to his advantage. He would have to remember to ask these people about that power when the fighting settled.

Meanwhile, as the multitude of Dark Rangers were perched atop the walls of the Sunwell Plateau, the Gargoyle's that came upon them then were relentless. Arrow after arrow was let loose in nearly every direction of the sky but even then it wasn't enough.

Several Shattered Sun priests tried to reinforce the Dark Rangers. They couldn't heal them, most likely because of their undead nature, but that didn't mean they weren't of any use. Draenei and Blood Elven priests alike channeled smoldering hot orbs of the purest white that Artanis had ever seen. Within seconds, the power within the orbs had fully formed and they burst forth from their open palms with fury.

The energy hissed as the attacks hit their targets, though it was quickly drowned out by the Gargoyles inherent shrieking. The attack made an impact, at first, though their numbers were simply too vast.

As they awaited another group to return, the Dark Rangers and the Shattered Sun priests fired arrows and searing orbs of the energy known as the Holy Light at countless Ghouls attempting to scale the wall. They couldn't kill them as quickly as they had hoped, however, and when the Gargoyles finally returned Artanis had to bring his Scout around to offer them some assistance.

He fired his anti-matter cannons at the Ghouls, giving the natives of this world a chance to focus entirely on the hundreds of Gargoyles fluttering about the isle.

"We require the assistance of a few Stalkers along the wall, immediately," Artanis reported to everyone on the battlefield.

"Incoming," one of them reported in.

Within seconds, three spider-like machines had appeared out of nowhere, though they had had four legs to speak of. A bright flash was all that alerted anyone to their arrival - a sign of the Dark Templar's blink ability. Their carapace-mounted particle disrupters shot towards the sky mere moments after their arrival and seared into the unsuspecting Gargoyle's that got caught in the crossfire.

The two other Scouts spun around to help Artanis deal with the undead scaling the wall. They pivoted along the wall, picking off numerous Ghouls and Geists in the process, until one particularly courageous minion decided he would leap from the wall and onto the hull of the Scout. The shift in weight made it hard for the Scouts propulsion system to keep it aloft. The hunched over creature tore at the ship's panels and, when a particular wire was torn from its hull, the ship's engines began to smoke.

"No!" Artanis shouted as the Scout started spinning towards the earth.

It crashed into the side of the wall and exploded on impact. A large section of the wall had been taken out with it and several Dark Rangers, and members of the Shattered Sun Offensive as well, fell to their respective ends. The undead horde poured into the opening left by the Scout's devastation.

"Where are our Reavers? They should be here by now!"

"They are currently manufacturing Scarabs. I can warp them in immediately, " one of the technicians aboard the Spear of Adun informed the Hierarch. "Though they won't be fully operational for a few more minutes. We just need to ensure that the psionic matrix had been stabilized."

The squid-like Warp Prism flew to Artanis' side then. It hovered there, it's translucent blue wings fluttering with the wind as it awaited it's orders.

"Preparing the psionic matrix now," the technician explained.

The Warp Prism's shape began to shift as it floated in mid-air. The wispy blue energy that looked like wings - which normally fluttered towards the back of the ship - had changed position so that they fanned out to line the entire vessel. It gave the Warp Prism the appearance of an umbrella, rather than the sea creature it had looked like moments ago.

A thin layer of blue energy hummed into existence on the ground beneath the ship and though it had dissipated seconds later, Artanis knew that the psionic matrix had fully stabilized.

"Warping in now," the technician finally responded.

Moments later, several large shapes began to materialize on the ground near the second gate of the Sunwell. They looked like gargantuan caterpillars crafted of the same golden metal carapace that most other Protoss machinery seemed to be built with.  
Two of the Stalkers turned their attention towards the Reavers quickly, wanting to allot them the time to finish manufacturing their Scarabs. They fired their powerful particle disrupters, each of which had two mounted to their sides just above the machines long legs.

The orbs of super-heated plasma that shot from the machines swept over the battlefield, incinerating dozens of the scurrying undead. Other undead that they hadn't even encountered yet had joined the fray and, though some of them were taken down in the Stalkers initial attack, they kept coming regardless.

Two of the Reavers were ready to make their strike and they each fired two of the smart-bombs. The tiny machines looked like little silver boxes with a few odd protrusions here and there but they looked rather simple nonetheless. They jetted off after the undead that had made it past the second gate.

The caterpillar-like Reavers built the Scarab smart-bombs inside of the vessel itself, and could use them to follow moving targets. The bombs had an intelligence of their own and were accurate enough that they could track an enemy inside of a building yet hit nothing other than its intended target. It could also mitigate how large of an explosion was required to deal with those threats.

Several gargantuan Abominations came barreling down on one of the unprepared Reavers almost instantly. They beat on the machines metallic hull incessantly which caused it to bend and twist in weird ways. Sparks flew from the war machines back, and one in particular tore the wires free and tried to eat them as if they were the things entrails. It swallowed them regardless.

One of the Scarabs turned completely around and rerouted itself towards the Abominations that had just damaged the sluggish war machines. As soon as it impacted the one who had looked to be enjoying its meal, it detonated and sent chunks of rotting flesh flying all over the battlefield.

As body parts flew into the the surrounding buildings and foul-smelling fluids splattered over the combatants, some of the Elven priests continued firing on some of the others. One particularly brave cleric walked right up to one of the creatures that had been stuffed full of foul things.

She looked different from most of the inhabitants of the isle. The violet hue of her skin was reminiscent of some of the same Protoss that had fought there that day, yet she was no kin to them.

She raised her hand and simply touched the foul thing and it burned as if it were aflame. She wore the same emblem that he had heard Sylvanas had said belonged to the Shattered Sun Offensive.

Two more Abominations came upon her then and she drew a large crystalline hammer from her back. She threw it at the head one of one and called forth a smoldering ball of Holy Light at the other. A Zealot at her side used its boosters to launch itself onto the one who had been hit by the glowing orb, and placed two psi blades directly into the creatures throat. It's head was completely severed.

* * *

While all of this had been going on, Abercrombie had been up to no good.

He had managed to find himself a Draenei paladin that would serve him just fine. He called out to him like he imagined someone had done to Arthas before. He lured him in with visions of grandeur and promises of hope.

In truth, he needed him to go beyond the wall to deactivate the final gate. Only the priests and paladins of the Shattered Sun were able to pass the barrier and, since the Sunwell's purification, only members of that order could actually deactivate Archonisus.

But Abercrombie or his master wouldn't have to wait too much longer. Despite the strangers assistance, their siege of the Sunwell was proving to be successful. All that stood between them now was one final barrier and even that would be brought down within a few mere moments.


End file.
